Arcadia
by seilleanmor
Summary: Castle and Beckett go undercover at a gated community, to investigate a string of mysterious deaths. Set Christmastime of season four, after Cuffed.
1. Chapter 1

**Arcadia**

* * *

"Beckett?" his voice comes tentative around the door of the break room and Kate bows her head at the counter, eyes slipping closed. She knew he would follow her when she stalked away from the captain, felt his eyes on her back as she did her best not to stomp into the break room and slam the door behind herself.

It's an honour, to be given this case. A demonstration of how much the mayor values her work as a detective, and a chance to prove that her shooting hasn't lessened her abilities as a cop in the slightest. Even so, frustration bubbles up in her belly and she grits her teeth, tucks the spill of her hair back behind one ear.

A slow breath in through her nose, another, and then she squares her shoulders and turns to face her partner. The moment he sees the set of her jaw, Castle steps inside and closes the door behind himself, leaning back against it with his hands pushed into the pockets of his slacks. "Is this. . .are you okay?"

A sigh makes it halfway out of her, crumbling in her mouth before it can really escape, and Kate comes away from the counter. The coffee is just starting to percolate now, the smell so rich and good. The better for having come from her, rather than needing to rely on him to work the wretched machine, and for a moment she wants to turn her back on him once more in smug satisfaction.

That's childish, and if they're going to make it through this they have to learn to cooperate.

Beckett takes a couple of steps towards Castle and shrugs, folding her arms awkwardly across her stomach. She's hyperaware of the arrangement of her bones, feels like it's Natalie Rhodes all over again, and Kate shakes herself right out of the drag of melancholia. "I'm fine."

"We don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable," he offers, peeling himself away from the door and reaching for her, two fingers circled at her wrist to bring her with him over to the couch. It reminds her of last week, her body tugged along in the wake of his, and she braces for the cold press of a metal bracelet that never comes.

Sinking down to sit, Kate folds one leg over the other and clasps her hands, rests them against the rise of her knee. Castle is fidgety next to her, picking at the button hole on the cuff of his shirt where a thread is just starting to unravel. It irritates her and she huffs, tension humming like white noise in the hard set of her jaw.

"Castle, we don't have a choice. This is the mayor's cousin. I would have thought you'd be eager to get justice for her, what with you being his friend and all."

He grumps at her, turning his face half away in exasperation, and she wonders if their entire marriage is going to go like this. Both of them hurting, both of them reluctant to communicate and just be honest. "Of course I want to get justice. I just don't want to do it at your expense. And I can't-"

"Can't what?" Kate asks when he falls silent, knotting her fingers together so she doesn't reach for him instead.

Scraping his hands over his face, Castle sighs into the cup of his palms and turns to look at her again. "I can't bear to pretend to be married to you, knowing that it's making you miserable."

She feels it like a blow to the solar plexus and her mouth drops open, throat working over silence. Since the summer, Kate has been carrying his words around with her, kept close in a secret space inside her chest. Someplace she dips into whenever she needs that boost, whenever loneliness swarms black and noisy as a plague and she half expects to be struck down for her dishonesty.

So yes, she knows. She's known, all this time. Castle is in love with her.

And the mayor wants them to go undercover as a married couple.

"Rick," she starts, and it has him jerking towards her, eyes snapping up to meet hers. They're going to have to get used to using each other's first name, and quickly, but she can't escape the memory of it like ash in her mouth as he hoisted her into his arms, the raw scrape of desperation up her throat as her partner hustled her away from that hangar. "I won't be miserable. And I can't think of anybody I'd rather do this with."

The offering, timid as it might be, has his whole face breaking open around a grin, his skin luminescent with pure and lovely joy. Just last week, he said he wants to get hitched to her, and the way he had stumbled to correct himself had been adorable, her heart sticky and malleable against her ribs. She let him have it gracefully, pretended she wasn't holding the truth of his desire in the cup of her palms, but she knew.

He can see them getting married someday. Wants that, for them.

"And the. . .the baby?"

"Fake pregnancy," she corrects immediately, automatically, despite the fact that she still can't believe she actually agreed to do it.

The mayor's cousin was the fourth woman to die in suspicious circumstances at the gated community where she lived. The fourth woman from a group of mothers that meet a couple times a week. So to get in to the _mommy club_ , Kate has to fake a pregnancy.

Bump and all.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable," her partner says quietly, drumming two fingers against the hard edge of his knee now. He's a good man, patient and kind, and tenderness wells up in her belly when he lifts his eyes to meet hers.

Shaking her head just a little, Kate manages something close to a smile for him. More the lift of one corner of her mouth than anything else, nowhere close to the way her lips peeled apart around her happiness in that bank last month, but it has an echoing curve wriggling its way across Castle's mouth.

"It's gonna be strange, I won't deny that. But I've had to do worse things undercover before. Spending some time in a beautiful house with my partner doesn't seem so bad, even if I have to wear a fake stomach."

"What if we end up having to stay for Christmas?" he blurts, clapping one hand over his mouth. His eyes widen, something charming and youthful about the abashed wriggle in his shoulders. Like a little boy who knows he can flirt his way out of any scrape.

They've never done the Christmas thing, never exchanged gifts or anything like that. He came to the precinct's party that first year he was shadowing her, but then the next year he was at a Black Pawn party with Gina instead. And they. . .they haven't talked about this year. What their plans are.

It's too close to somewhere they aren't yet, too much like _your family or mine_.

Kate picks at the ragged edge of a nail - she caught it on the thick knit of her scarf on the way out of the door this morning - and heat blooms high up in her cheeks, along the pale column of her neck. "We'll have a couple of weeks before Christmas comes around, and I'm hopeful it won't take us that long to figure out what's going on. But if we don't, if we're still there, then I guess we'll just have to spend it together."

"I've never spent the day without my daughter," he gruffs, but there's a flare of hope in his face too. Horror at the thought of being apart from Alexis warring with his yearning to spend Christmas day with _her_ , Kate Beckett, and she has to turn her face half away from him. "But I'm sure we'll solve it by then anyway. It's what we're great at."

"There might be nothing _to_ solve," Beckett says, her words snaking out like a tether to wrap around his middle as he descends to the depths of mystery and intrigue. There's no evidence of a crime at all here, just a string of apparently accidental deaths, and that's why the mayor came to them.

Nobody else will listen. Not the way Castle does.

Her partner lifts one shoulder at her in a shrug, the scruff that peppers his jaw making her mouth dry for just a moment, tongue sticking uncomfortably against the back of her teeth. He's handsome in the winter, the bite of the cold making his skin pale and his cheeks flushed, life pulsing so vibrantly just underneath his skin. It makes him stick close against her side, too, sharing body heat, and so many times she's wanted to reach for his hands, curl her wind-chapped fingers up against the warmth of his bear paw.

"I know, but I owe it to Bob to at least find out what's really going on. Without him, I never would have gotten to be your partner."

"We both owe him a lot," she offers, ducking her chin so that the curtain of her hair swoops forward to hide her face from him. Like the end of a great performance and she waits for the crescendo of rapturous applause, in appreciation of how valiantly she pretended to be unaffected.

That's over with now, finished. If she's going to be his wife - even as a charade - she won't be cold and aloof like so many of the women they come across, won't turn away from how he yearns to love her. If they're going to do this, go undercover, she's going to sell it.

Let everybody see how much she loves him right back.

* * *

The knock at her door makes her smile where she might once have startled, his knuckles against the wood familiar in their merry little dance, and she walks - waddles - across the living room to answer it. Her suitcases are packed, two of them because they're supposed to look like they're moving in, and she brushes her fingers over the handle of one of the bags before she opens her door to him.

She was ready for a reaction, knew it couldn't exactly go unnoticed, but Castle stumbles and catches himself against her doorframe, looks for a moment like he's about to sink slowly to his knees before her. A hand settles reflexively against the top of the bump and she steps back from the entryway to let him inside.

Her entire suitcase is filled with clothes that aren't hers. Well, okay, they do technically belong to her, but she's never worn them before. Won't ever again once this case is over.

Yesterday, after she squared her jaw and scuttled, tail between her legs, back to Captain Gates' office to receive the rest of her briefing, she went shopping. Dragged Lanie along with her, because Kate Beckett does not know how to dress like somebody's suburban wife, or like a pregnant woman, and she needed somebody to gripe at.

It's freezing outside, although they haven't gotten any snow yet this winter, so this morning she bundled up in a grey knit sweater, a wool coat that's a mixture of white and paler grey. The layers don't do much to hide the bump - she's supposed to be six months pregnant - and Castle takes a long while to drag his eyes up to her face.

"That's. . .kinda weird."

"Yeah," she snorts, but all the same she can't help the defensive flit of her hand against the roundness of her fake belly. There's no baby in there, no fluttering proof of life, but still she feels protective. Silly with it, and a flush burns in her cheeks. "I think I'm going to end up recycling four of the same outfits. It's hard to buy a whole new wardrobe of things you wouldn't normally choose."

"I've never seen you dressed anything less than perfectly."

Her mouth opens to remind him that he's seen her in pajamas, seen her in nothing at all when her apartment exploded, but the more sensible part of her brain puts a noose around her tongue and pulls tight. She's pretending to be his wife, yes, but she is so not ready to hear however he might respond to that.

 _You looked perfect even then_ , his voice says in her head, low and gravelly, and she feels the heat of embarrassment flare in her cheeks, along column of her throat.

Castle doesn't seem to have noticed; if he has, he's gracious enough to ignore it. Shaking his head, he moves further inside her apartment and extends the handle of her rolling suitcase, dragging it a little way towards the door before he turns back to look at her. "You ready to go?"

"As ready as I'm ever gonna get," she says, a smile blooming when she meets his eyes, and he grins right back at her.

Kate tucks her purse over her shoulder and curls her fingers around the handle of the smaller case, pushes it out into the hallway ahead of herself and turns to lock her apartment door. A little way down the corridor Castle hovers with her bag, and when she comes back around to face him he's not quite fast enough.

The look of terrifying awe lingers a moment too long on his face and Beckett swallows back the flood of strange grief, sucks in a breath before she goes to him. He chuckles at her and when she gets close enough - it takes a while - she swats at his arm, the very tips of her fingers lingering to flirt with the material of his sweater. It's a deep green, pushed up to his elbows, and for a moment she wants to lay her cheek against the swell of his bicep.

"Shut up," she gruffs instead, shifting her weight and reaching around her partner to press the call button for the elevator. "It's weighted. For realism. I'm trying to get used to it."

"It suits you," he says, the words little more than shifting air and the work of his lips and tongue. Quiet enough that for a second, she wants to ignore them entirely.

Seeing her pregnant is doing things to him that she can't meet head on, doesn't dare turn her face towards, and Kate pushes the fingers of one hand into the pocket of her jeans and steps forward, grateful for the miraculous timing of the elevator. "It's weird. And uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry, Beckett," he says, for maybe the hundredth time since they got this assignment a little more than twenty four hours ago. She wishes he wouldn't gut himself like this, wouldn't draw a sharp line of self-deprecation down his middle to let his insides come tumbling out.

"It's not your fault, Castle. And - like I said yesterday - not the worst thing in the world. Not as bad as Vice."

He gives her a dramatic shudder for that, his whole body wiggling as he steps into the elevator after her and hauls her suitcase inside the car. "What was that like?"

"Undercover work?" she hums, drumming her fingers against the extended handle of her case so she doesn't rest her hand on the bump again. "Exciting. But-" ducking her chin, she wonders how much of this he really ought to be hearing. Especially as her fake husband. The pretend father of her nonexistent child. "It always seemed to be freezing. And I was never. . .wearing a lot."

"At least you're bundled up now," he smiles at her, something boyish in it as if he's delighted with her. She's working hard not to be grumpy about this, not to snarl and snap at her partner's kindness. It's not his fault that she has to do this, not even his fault that he's enjoying it so much, and she doesn't want to see that awful twist of his mouth in disappointment with her.

Never again.

Out in the street, Castle tugs open the passenger door of his car for her, takes the coat she shucks and drapes it on top of his own across the back seat. Her cases go in the trunk next to his and then he comes back around, a frown puckering his forehead to see her still standing next to the car.

"Did you want to drive?"

"Hmm?" Kate shakes herself out of her reverie and realises she's stepped off the curb, her whole body orienting to keep her eyes on him, and now she's standing in the icy slush that gathers along the edge of the road. Grimacing, she slides as gracefully as she can manage into the passenger seat of her partner's car, a moment's hesitation grasping hold before she tucks her feet inside.

Her boots come up to her knees in buttery leather, and they'll survive the city's winter detritus just fine, but she doesn't want to get dirt in Castle's car.

"Oh," he says once he's in the car, pausing with his seatbelt drawn halfway across his body. He lets it go again and the buckle clatters against the metal frame of the door; Kate's nostrils flare in amusement and she fastens her own belt, alarmed at how much of it is necessary to cover her stomach.

At her side, her partner lifts his butt up out of the seat so he can wriggle his fingers down into the pocket of his pants, tugging them back out with a noise of triumph. "I almost forgot. You had to buy a whole new wardrobe, so I took charge of this part."

His fingers are closed in a fist around something and Kate shifts as much as her fake stomach will allow, bringing one knee up underneath herself so that she can turn and face her partner. "What part?"

"Rings," he beams, uncurling his hand to show her the little collection nestled in the cup of his palm. All three are platinum, two matching wedding bands and an engagement ring with an utterly obscene diamond, and Beckett sags back against the seat.

"You. . .bought real ones? I figured the precinct would give you something fake. Costume jewellery."

Colour bleeds into his cheeks and he turns his head away for a moment, his throat working as he swallows. She knew he was excited about going undercover, but this? "I want this to be at least somewhat enjoyable, for us. Or at least not terrible. And I didn't want either of us to have to wear some awful, plastic thing that would turn our finger green and give us away."

"I don't know if you can expense this, Castle," she says carefully, as if she's ever known him to be frugal before. As if that's the thing that has her hands clammy, makes her wipe them off against the material of her jeans.

"It's fine. I can just. . .return them. When it's over."

Turning back around to face forward again, Kate manages a nod and flicks her eyes to see him. Like this, she's only afforded a shard of his cheek, the regal slope of his nose. "As long as you're sure."

"I'm sure," he says, and then his fingers close around hers and he tugs her hand across the centre console, cradles it in his. Before she can pull out of his grip he's sliding them onto her finger, first the engagement ring and then the wedding band, and once they're nestled at the base of her finger he lifts her hand to his mouth and dusts a kiss to her knuckle.

His lips are warm, lingering against her skin and a shiver rips through her. Castle drops her hand as if he's been scalded and she takes it back, rests it awkwardly on top of her thigh. The weight of the rings is disconcerting, as if her fake stomach wasn't throwing her off enough already, but she can't help herself.

Fanning her fingers out, she admires the way the rings look nestled together, how the diamond seems somehow less obscene now that she's wearing it. All over again, it hits her that he _chose_ these. He went to a store - probably more than one - and agonised over it, hands in his pockets and affable noises of dismissal aimed at the swarming salesgirls.

Castle starts the engine and eases the car smoothly into the flow of traffic, both hands cradling the steering wheel, and Kate huffs, shifting her hips in the seat to get somewhere close to comfortable. She hasn't been able to work up to this gradually, hasn't marvelled over the growth of her bump, and the suddenness of the extra weight and girth is throwing her off entirely.

To distract herself from the awkward fit of her body in the car, Beckett flicks her eyes towards her partner, the wedding band that circles his own finger. "You didn't let me do yours."

"Do what?" he asks, gaze never moving away from the windshield. This is the first time he's ever been the one to drive and Kate lets two fingers rest against her mouth, tracing the arc of her amusement.

He's so serious, a little frown puckering between his eyebrows that makes him seem almost grumpy with the responsibility. Kate settles her other hand the only place that's comfortable, resting against the curve of her stomach, and then she understands.

 _Precious cargo_.

They have to sell the charade if this undercover operation is going to be a success, and that means convincing everybody that they really are having a baby. And so the protective side of Castle, the father in him, rears its head to keep safe their imaginary child.

"You didn't let me put your ring on."

"I didn't think you would want to," he says, turning his head to see her for a moment. They're at a stoplight, the car humming as it warms up, and Kate wriggles in her chair again. It's probably for the best that her partner is at the wheel; she can't even figure out how to _sit_ properly, never mind focus on driving. "There's a cushion for you in the back."

Twisting against the confines of the seatbelt, Kate turns to look into the back of the car and sure enough, one of the pillows from his couch in the loft is there waiting. She stretches an arm, shoulder pressed against the back of her seat so that she can reach, and a huff of triumph escapes her as she hooks her fingers at one corner, where the stuffing doesn't quite pad out the cover.

Beckett tugs it through the middle of the car and shifts forward in her seat, nudges the cushion in at the small of her back. Leaning against it, the relief is immediate and she groans, eyes closing as tension swells and then releases all along her spine. "How did you know I'd need that?"

"I've done this before. With Meredith, I mean. And I know it's not real, and you're not _actually_ pregnant, but I figured some of the discomfort would be the same."

"Thank you, Castle," she offers, dipping her chin before she remembers that her hair is caught in a knot at the nape of her neck and only a few strands slip forward to hide the flush of gratitude. "And about the ring-"

The light switches to green and her partner accelerates smoothly, easing the sedan along in the flow of traffic that winds along the riverbeds of the city. His hands cradle the wheel, the leather sliding through the curve of his palm when he makes a turn and Kate settles back against the headrest, keeps her eyes firmly facing forward.

"We can drop it," he says like an olive branch, but she won't take it. Instead, Kate rolls her head to the side and smiles at the side of his face, catches the quirk in the corner of his mouth as if he's helpless but to echo her tentative amusement.

"I don't want to drop it. I wanted to-" Beckett pauses, swallows back the ridiculous flood of grief that swamps her. "I wish I could have returned the favour."

That makes him huff a breath of almost-laughter, but Kate turns to look out of her window, let him not see the petulant scowl that swells in her bottom lip, knots her forehead. The thing about going from partners who sometimes touch but never talk just yesterday, to here in this suburban car with matching rings and a baby on the way, is that they didn't get the journey.

She never got to wake up next to him for the first time - she is ignoring that tiger incident entirely - and stare at the breadth of his shoulders, scoot closer and closer along his insane thread count sheets towards the warmth that rolls off his bare skin. Touch kisses to the tender place just inside of his bicep until he came awake and rolled to see her, that lopsided grin breaking his face wide open.

"Have you thought up a backstory?" she asks him and he starts, clearly expecting the silence to linger. After it swelled in the car, made his fingers drum against the steering wheel in agonising discomfort, he fiddled with something in the electronic display of the dashboard and then it connected to his phone and a playlist started.

They've gone through handfuls of songs now, and he must have thought she wasn't up for conversation because he kept inching the volume higher and higher as if to drown out the awful static of their quiet, enough that he has to turn it back down again now so that he can answer.

"Sort of? I figured we should stick close to what we know, career wise. So I thought maybe I'd teach college literature, and you'd be a lawyer."

"What if they google us?" Kate says, panic suddenly clutching hard at her so that she rears against her seatbelt, the need to get more upright thrown off by the counterweight of her stomach. "Castle, you're famous. What if they recognise you?"

He winces at her, something boyish in the scrunch of his face that makes her heart roll over, close enough to how she imagines the flutter of life in her belly would be that a soundless gasp escapes her and a hand migrates to rest on top of her stomach again.

"I guess we just have to hope that nobody recognises me. We've got fake IDs, and tech said they'd generate some fake web hits for our aliases. I. . .kinda already told them what our covers were," he gulps, turns his head for half a second to see her. "I hope you're okay with being a lawyer."

Groaning, Kate presses the heels of her hands into her eye sockets until she sees the pop of vibrant colour, kaleidoscopic green. "Castle, this place is going to be full of bored, sexually frustrated housewives. Isn't that ninety percent of your fanbase?"

"Hey," he grumps, a flash of real hurt transforming his face for just a moment, and before she knows she's doing it Kate reaches out to skim her fingers along the puckered cuff of his sweater where it's pushed up to his elbow, flirting with the skin at the inside of his arm until he shivers.

"I'm sorry. That was cruel. And not true. But even so, are you sure it's not going to be a problem?"

"No," a huff of nervous laughter escapes him and Kate realises her hand is still resting at his arm, draws it back. "I'm not sure at all. I guess we'll just have to hope for the best."

Burying her face in her hands again, Kate moans in not-quite-false despair. "Oh, god. We're not going to make it five minutes."

"It'll be fine," her partner says, but his voice cracks a little at the end and he flushes, shifting in his seat. Pity makes her turn her gaze away from him, lets him escape her accidental scrutiny, and Kate picks at the edge of her still-snaggly nail.

She meant to do something about that, absolutely sure that it'll mess up her suburban housewife exterior. Maybe even go against the codes of conduct that she's quite sure the gated community will impose, and she reaches for her purse from the footwell, rummages inside in search of a nail file.

One scrape along the ragged edge and her partner yelps, his spine snapping straight and one hand peeling away from the steering wheel to swat blindly at her. "Please, _please_ , don't do that in front of me."

"File my nails?"

"Yes," he shudders. "I hate the noise. It makes my teeth hurt."

"Oh-kay," Kate says slowly, dropping the nail file back into her purse and setting it down at her feet again, leaning back against the pillow. Her hips are aching after such a long time in the car and she reaches a hand behind herself to massage the muscles that flare in her pelvis, struck for a moment by the ridiculous yearning to stretch out someplace soft and let her partner's warm hands do the work. "Are we almost there?"

Castle turns a smile towards her for that and it makes her feel childish, squirming under his amusement. "Another half hour. We should use the time to air our grievances, before we have to pretend to be married. Wanna yell at me?"

"No, I don't want to yell at you," she laughs, but the lift of his eyebrow in self-deprecation brings her clattering back down into dismay and she brings a knee up onto the seat, twisting around until her stomach is comfortably arranged and she can see him. "You've been really great about this whole thing. I expected more teasing."

"I figured that could wait until it's over with," he smirks, slamming his shoulder back against the seat in an effort to escape when she reaches out to swat at him. The smile slides down his face like the smear of half-removed costume makeup when he catches sight of her frown and he reaches for her hand, tucks her slender fingers up against his palm and squeezes. "I'm not looking to make you miserable here, Beckett. I'll be a good husband, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know you will," she admits, because even with Gina, even with _Meredith_ , she knows her partner. How he loves to love, yearns to take care of the people that matter to him, and although she's sure he must have had his failings in his two previous - crap, _his only_ \- marriages, she knows he'll pour everything of himself into caring for her.

Especially with the baby.

Kate saw the light that flooded his face when the captain told him what this case would involve, the cascading joy when she opened her door to him earlier, and she knows he's fallen hard for the idea of their child. It's sweet, and also entirely too much for her to deal with.

If she finds he's bought anything, even so much as a knitted cap, for their non-existant little one, she will kill him.

* * *

 **Tumblr:** katiehoughton

 **Twitter:** seilleanmor


	2. Chapter 2

**Arcadia**

* * *

They're buzzed through the gate without any issues, and the street signs make for easy navigation as Castle winds the car through the community until they reach their new home. Sliding into the driveway, he cuts the engine and for a moment they both just sit, taking in the house.

It's the same as all of the others surrounding it, imposing with its wraparound porch and rolling lawn, and something childlike and giddy comes alive in Kate's chest. She wouldn't want to live somewhere like this, all of the rules and the homogeneity of the neighbourhood so tedious, but it's fun to play pretend for a little while.

"You ready?" her partner asks and Kate nods, unbuckles her seatbelt and steps out of the car. Arching her back, Kate stretches out her spasming muscles until she feels the flood of liquid heat there, relief making her groan after so long trapped in the car. Castle comes around to her side and his palm splays at the curve of her spine, reeling her body in close to his. "Okay?"

"Yep," she nods, forces herself not to freeze up at the casual intimacy of his hands on her. Over his shoulder, she spies their neighbours approaching and Kate lifts up onto tiptoe in her flat boots, her lips forming a shadow of a kiss against his cheekbone. "People are coming."

Her phone rings in her pocket and Kate tugs it free, turning half away from the couple now walking up their driveway as she answers. Ryan and Esposito are driving the U-Haul truck, filled half with a hastily amassed collection of their belongings and half with files on the dead women and the things they'll need to solve the case. Her gun, because she couldn't exactly show up to move in with it holstered at her hip. Beckett gives them the access code for the gate, hanging up just in time to catch her partner shaking the hand of one of their neighbours.

"I'm Richard Rodgers. This is my wife, Katherine- Kate. It's so good to meet you."

"Welcome to our community," their neighbour beams, her blonde hair in a sleek ponytail and a sweater somehow making her look slender and elegant. Her entire outfit is pastel tones, everything starched and perfect, and Kate feels almost frumpy in her thick knit sweater and jeans. "I'm Helen, this is my husband, Jeff."

Kate accepts a handshake from each of them, feeling a little delirious. Any moment now she expects a director to call out instructions to them, a harried woman to rush in and touch up her makeup, and she reaches for her partner's hand.

There's no hesitation in the curl of his fingers around hers, their palms clasped, and Kate lets him use that grip to tug her closer against his side. The U-Haul appears around the corner and the four of them crowd away from the driveway, onto the immaculately presented front lawn.

"We've got your keys," Jeff says, fishing them out of his pocket to hand over to Castle. "Bill - that's the president of the Homeowner's Association - gave them to us to give to you. He's busy this afternoon, but he said to tell you he'll stop by later this evening to see how you're settling in."

"Thank you," Castle says, accepting the keys from their neighbour. The boys pull into the driveway in the U-Haul truck and pile out, opening up the back to reveal rows of neatly stacked boxes.

Helen clears her throat and touches her fingers to her husband's elbow, shooting him a look before she turns a winning smile towards Kate and her partner. "Well, we'll leave you to unpack and get settled. If there's anything you need, we're just next door. Be sure to ask."

"Thank you, we will," Kate says, startling a little when Helen reaches for both of her hands and squeezes tight. She's hyperaware of the boys at her back, their barely contained amusement, and she keeps herself carefully away from Castle as they watch their new neighbours walk away.

"You two look great," her partner smirks the moment Helen and Jeff disappear inside their house, eyebrows rocketing towards his hairline. Ryan and Esposito are kitted out in the dark slacks and beige long sleeve pullover of the U-Haul uniform, and Kate stifles her own laughter against the palm of her hand.

It's weird to see them in a uniform that isn't their dress blues, but she's the one faking a pregnancy right now, and she'd rather not give them a reason to poke fun. "Castle, how about you go open the door and we can start unloading everything?"

"You're not supposed to be calling me that, Mrs Rodgers," he teases, an elbow nudging into her side, and Kate scowls and jerks away from him because he's _right_ , and she's already blowing their cover.

He trots up the driveway towards the front door and unlocks it, apparently unaffected by her irritation; easy happiness floods his whole body and she catches his little wriggle when he crosses the threshold, before he disappears inside. The boys look at each other and then they both make a slow turn back to look at her, matching smug grins stretching both of their mouths.

"Wow, Kate," Esposito says, barely-leashed laughter humming in his words. "Your husband seems to be enjoying himself."

"Shut up," she huffs, cracking open the trunk of Castle's car and curling her fingers around the handle of one of their cases, ready to lift it out.

Ryan's hand comes to cover hers and he swats her away, hauling all four of the cases out of the car himself and shrugging at her when she scowls. "What are the neighbours going to think if they see the moving guys standing around while the pregnant woman does the heavy lifting?"

"You know what? You're absolutely right," Kate grins, turning her back on the boys and heading up the driveway towards the house. Their grumbling and griping snaps at her heels as she goes and Kate wants to throw her head back in triumph, siphons off some of her delight in the arc of her grin instead.

Stepping inside of her new home, the smile slides right off her face and Kate gasps, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. The other is resting at the curve of her baby bump again, but she's stopped jerking it away to hang awkwardly at her side. It's part of the cover, and she allows her fingers to flutter in a merry little dance, as if greeting her imaginary child.

The house is furnished; the previous owners were interior designers and wanted to move on with a clean slate, left everything except their more personal belongings behind. It's stunning, the foyer space mostly taken up by a staircase to her right that curves slightly, as if in echo of a much more dramatic and stately home.

To her left, an archway leads through to the dining room and Kate slips out of her boots and steps inside, skims her fingers along the edge of the table. The dark brown wood stands out beautifully against the warm neutral of the walls, the pale hardwood and the thickly woven hemp rug. There are three place settings laid out, the rich eggplant dishes adding a splash of colour to the space that makes her smile.

Through a second archway, perpendicular to the one leading off of the foyer, Kate spots her partner and her smile stretches wider as she moves to lean against the frame and watch him pottering around the great room. "Rick, this is amazing."

"I know right?" he beams, lopsided delight making his eyes crinkle as he comes towards her. Castle reaches for one of her hands, their palms clasped as he leads her into the great room. The kitchen leads off to the left, but Kate turns her back to it, entranced by the fireplace. The surround is stone-clad, stretching all the way up to the ceiling, and the fire itself is captured behind glass doors in a charcoal coloured surround, the whole setting arching in a way that's reminiscent of a castle or a manor, someplace regal.

She's seen two rooms of this house, only two, and already Kate is dreading the day they have to leave again. It's _so_ gorgeous, at once stylish and homely, and she takes a step closer to her partner's side, hand still in his.

"I can't believe we get to live here. Even if it's only for a little while."

"We're gonna have so much fun," he grins boyishly, letting go of her fingers to head back towards the foyer again and greet the boys. Kate pads behind him in her socked feet, chuckling at the twin looks of awe on Ryan and Esposito's faces. Her partner gives them a moment to take it in, and then he starts orchestrating where things need to go. "Precinct stuff can go in the first bedroom on your left when you come up the stairs, and everything else just leave in the great room for now."

* * *

By the time the boys have emptied out the U-Haul truck and left Beckett and her partner alone in the suburbs to fend for themselves, the sun has sunk low into the belly of the earth and the streetlights have flickered slowly on, spaced at even intervals along the sidewalk. Every house has a porch light by the front door, and Kate can understand why communities like these make people feel safer.

Curled up in the study across the foyer from the dining room, in a chair in the reading nook angled towards the window, Kate watched the houses on their street come alive one after the other, tasteful Christmas decorations blinking on and rooms overflowing with warm and lovely light. It made her think of Dickens, of cheerful families muddling their way through life together behind each door, and Castle's enthusiastic renditions of Christmas songs as he unpacked in the bedroom had a love-drunk smile blooming at her mouth.

She feels good, this evening. A little sleepy, a little lazy. A lot worried about what happens tonight, when they go to bed together in the _same_ bed, sharing the master suite, but she pushes it back over and over again, won't let it send her careful happiness tumbling over into melancholy.

Castle finds her in the kitchen, perched on one of the stools at the island but facing the wrong way, leaning against the granite lip of the countertop so that she can stare through the French doors to the outside. Lights flick on one after the other in the garden, illuminating the water feature and the path that winds along towards a place to sit, and even though it's winter and most of the plants are dormant Kate is arrested by how beautiful it is.

"Hey," her partner says, sinking to sit on the stool at her side. They haven't seen much of each other this afternoon, Castle taking charge of unpacking their belongings while Kate set up a quasi precinct in the upstairs bedroom, and she turns to give him a smile. "Hungry?"

"I could eat," she says easily, feels the creature that lives in her stomach testing his muscles in a slow-dawning alertness.

Castle stretches his arms up above his head with a groan and his sweater rides up, a sliver of warm skin at his abdomen peeking out. It sends a tide of yearning through her guts and Kate takes a breath, another, lets it pass without incident. When her partner relaxes again he rakes a hand through his hair, whatever styling product he used this morning long worn away so that it's fluffy and falling all over his forehead and Kate crosses one leg over the other, presses her thighs together.

"Bill from the Homeowner's Association came by earlier while you were upstairs and invited us for dinner at his place. I said yes," he winces, glancing at her through half-closed eyes as if to gauge her reaction, but Kate gives him an encouraging smile. "I figured it might be a good opportunity to scope him out a bit. See what he knows."

"Right," she nods, sliding down from her stool. A day of moving around with the bump has let her acclimatise and she feels a synergy with it now, a strange maternal fire rearing its head inside her as if even a placebo baby is enough to kick her long-absent mothering gene into action.

Never in her life has Kate seen a baby and wanted to nibble the little toes, never exclaimed that she could just _die_ from the cuteness, but her own child? Even the idea of it makes her feel at once serene and powerful, in awe of the instinctual love that swells in her chest.

"We'd better get going," Castle says, standing up from his stool and heading for the laundry room just off the kitchen, where their coats and scarves are hanging.

Kate lets her partner help her into her coat, a little shiver of pleasure rattling through her when warm fingers skim her neck as he frees her hair from the collar, and she pads into their bedroom to collect her boots. Meeting her partner in the foyer, she sticks close to his side as they leave the house and he sets the complicated alarm system, locking the front door behind them.

Something about the weight of the ring on her finger and the swell of her stomach makes her soft for him, wanting to keep him close by. Their arms brush as they make their way down the porch steps and along the curved path that joins the driveway, the heat of him even through sweater and wool coat making her hyperaware of his presence.

It turns out that Bill's house is only a block over from theirs and Kate is glad for it; the night is bitter, cold fingers clutching at her lungs and curling into the gaping places of her coat. On the doorstep, Beckett touches her fingers to her partner's arm before he can ring the bell and he jerks, twisting to look at her.

"Rick, listen. We _cannot_ start probing him about the dead women. We're supposed to be a clueless couple who just want to raise their child someplace safe. If we do anything at all that makes him suspicious, our cover is blown."

"I've been working with you for three years now, Kate," he mutters, shadow rolling down from the crag edge of his jaw. "I'm not an idiot. I know we can't interrogate him."

Taking a small step closer, Kate reaches up to touch three fingers to his cheek and have him look at her. The curve of her stomach between them means she can't get as close as she might like to, can't slide her arms around his neck in apology and have her body kiss his from shoulder to hip, so this will have to do.

"I'm not calling you an idiot. In fact, I'll mostly be taking your lead on this. If he asks about us, I mean."

That makes his chest puff up in pride and he grins, a gloved hand coming up to cover hers at his cheek. For half a second, she thinks he might actually kiss her here on this doorstep, but instead pleasure makes a flush bloom at the tips of his ears and he glances down at their feet. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it, and I've written us one hell of a romance, Kate."

"I can't wait to hear it," she smiles for him, and then Kate reaches out and rings the doorbell herself.

The door comes open almost immediately and a man - Bill, she assumes - greets them enthusiastically, ushering them inside his home. "Come in, come in. Let's get you out of the cold. Can I take your coats?"

"Thank you," Castle says, helping Kate out of her coat and handing it over to Bill before he shucks his own and passes that over as well. Their host disappears for a moment into the study to drape the jackets over a chair and Kate's partner takes the opportunity to knot their fingers together, a shuffling step bringing him closer to her side. "He seems like a nice enough guy. Relax, honey."

Her scowl lasts half a second before Bill returns and she has to smile instead, lacing her arm through Castle's to really sell it. Her cheek meets his bicep, her body weary, and their host beams at the two of them. "I'm so glad to welcome you to the neighbourhood Rick, Kate. You're just the sort of couple we love to see. Committed to family."

"We're so excited to raise our children here," Castle says smoothly, untangling his hand from hers so that it can splay at the curve of her spine instead. His pinky finger grazes the swell of her ass and Kate shifts her weight, shoots him a warning glare the moment Bill turns away from them.

A woman maybe a handful of years younger than Kate's father appears from the kitchen, apron knotted at her waist and Bill smiles, touches a kiss to her cheek. "Rick, Kate, this is my wife Maggie. These are the new neighbours, just moved in this afternoon."

Everybody exchanges greetings and handshakes and then they're ushered through to the dining room to sit, Castle and Beckett next to each other and across the table from Bill and Maggie. Kate's partner pulls out her chair for her to sit, his fingers skimming along the top of her shoulder as he takes his own seat, and she turns a smile towards him.

"What can I get you to drink?" Maggie asks and Kate lets her gaze slide slowly away from her partner, meeting their hostess' easy smile with one of her own. She asks for water, remembering at the last second that she can't have wine - no matter how much she might need it to get through the evening.

"Water is fine for me too, thank you," Castle says, pushing up one sleeve of his sweater where it's started to fall down towards his wrist. "If Kate can't have alcohol or coffee, then neither will I. We're in this together."

Bill laughs at that, eyes scrunching closed in amusement and his head shaking. "You're a better man than me, Rick."

* * *

"Well," Kate huffs when they make it through their front door, leaning back against it and letting her skull thud against the wood, eyes closed. "That was a waste of time."

There's a clatter and her eyes pop open again just in time to see Castle, on one leg to pull off his shoe, start to topple and grab for the stair railing. Catching her smirk, he scowls and drops down to sit heavily on the bottom step to take his shoes off properly, one corner of his mouth quirking up when she sinks to sit beside him.

"Why? Because we had a wonderful meal that we didn't have to cook, great conversation, and we got to know our new neighbours."

"They are _not_ our neighbours," she gruffs, poking a fingertip hard into her partner's chest. His pectoral muscle is firm under her touch and he tenses, shivering; Kate swallows and snatches her hand back again. "We're not here to make friends and go to dinner. We're here to solve a case. And we didn't learn anything useful."

A thick sludge of frustration and fatigue bubbles up inside her chest and her voice cracks, head dropping into her hands. Her palms push hard into her eye sockets to stem the stupid flood of scalding emotion and her breath escapes in a trembling sigh, like coming down from the crying jag that hasn't really started yet.

"Hormones?" Castle teases and she growls, rearing against the warm hand that comes to settle between the stark wings of her shoulder blades. He presses down, firm and sure, and Kate resists for barely a moment before she props her elbows on her knees, cups her chin in her palms and tilts her head to look at him. "I know you're frustrated. But we'll get there, Beckett. We'll figure this one out."

"I hate feeling like I'm wasting time," she gruffs, straightening up again. Castle settles his hand back in his lap and twists a little to see her, leaning against the railing. His enjoyment of this whole situation grates against her raw edges and she feels the sulk waiting to grab at her, has to make a concentrated effort not to pout like a child.

Four women are dead, nobody held accountable, and they are here to find out the truth. Not to settle into domestic bliss.

Castle rubs both hands down his thighs and then stands, offers her a hand to help her to her feet that Kate accepts gratefully, too tired to hold on to her irritation. Like he said, she won't begrudge him his coping mechanisms. If what he needs to get through this cruel twist of fate, the universe's irony, is to try to enjoy himself, then she won't stand in his way.

It's late, and she's about to get into bed with him; pretending that they're not doing the touching thing is more effort than she's capable of.

"I know you want to dive right in to investigating," he says as they make their way through the great room and into the master suite. "But like you said earlier, we can't arouse suspicion. We have to gain people's trust, and if that means going to dinner and maybe even enjoying ourselves, so be it."

Kate nods, a soft smile quivering at her lips and then she yawns, jaw unhinging wide and one hand coming up to cover the gaping chasm of her mouth. A little bubble of laughter escapes her and she glances up at Castle through her lashes, shaking her head to clear some of the cobwebs.

"I'll feel better in the morning, when we've devised a plan," she says, unzipping her boots and stepping out of them, gathering them up to carry towards the closet. Castle follows behind her, trunk curled around her tail, and when she twists to see him he smiles sheepishly and takes the boots from her, disappears inside the walk in with them.

All day, he's been so chivalrous, so eager to take care of his pregnant wife, and to see the easy joy that fills him when she doesn't scold or snap at him makes her heart a soft and malleable thing. She can hear him now, humming to himself as he puts her boots away and she allows her smile to bloom, tenderness welling up in her belly.

Kate drops to sit heavily on the end of the bed and reaches down to pull her socks off, wriggling further up towards the pillows and leaning on her elbows with her head tipped back so that the ends of her hair brush the sheets. It's so good to sit down, rest her weary bones, and she's glad for the exhaustion that tugs at her.

The faster she falls asleep, the less time spent lying prone in the darkness trying not to listen to her partner's breathing, the little noises she's always imagined him making as dreams take hold.

The man in question reappears from the closet and she lifts up a little, drawing her legs up to fold more comfortably. "Hey. Thanks for putting those away."

"Sure," he says, pleasure fizzing up so that he looks like he wants to squirm with it. Instead, he pushes his hands into the depths of his pockets and offers her a soft smile. "I'm gonna go get us both a glass of water. Give you space to change."

While he's gone, Kate gets ready for bed as quickly as possible, the fake bump strange and grotesque where she leaves it draped over a chair in the corner. It's attached to a nude-coloured bodysuit with a heavily padded bra incorporated too, and the silicone material of the actual stomach is creepily close to real skin. Convincing, yes, but also quite horrifying to look at when she's not wearing it.

Shuddering, Kate turns her back on it and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash off her makeup, the sallow face of the woman looking back at her in the mirror making her wince.

Last night, anxiety about pretending to be married to Castle, the crippling fear that he'd come bulldozing through her walls the moment the ring was on his finger, kept her up. The moon's omniscient, slow-blinking eye gazed at her through the window as the darkness shifted in colour and texture from thick, rich purple to deepest black. Dawn came, bleeding capillary fingers into the sky and leaving the awakening world a pallid grey; the delirium of sleeplessness toppled her right out of bed and sent her stumbling for the coffee machine.

The skin underneath her eyes is bruised with it now, her face wan, but she won't put on concealer just to go to bed next to him. She's aiming for long term here, a rocker beside his on the porch one day, and what does it say about them if she can't even let him see her without makeup.

Back in the bedroom, Kate tugs on plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved jersey shirt, hesitates at the sight of herself in the mirror above the dresser. The navy fabric clings enough that she debates a moment before she decides to just leave her bra on, not quite at the point where she wants to let him see her without it.

The makeup is one thing, but she's looking forward to a first time with him someday soon, blinks her eyes open in the pre-dawn some mornings and imagines she sees the slack awe on his face at the sight of her. If she can, she wants to hold on to some of that mystery for a while longer.

Between the sheets, she curls up on her side and splays a hand against the alarming flatness of her stomach, tugs the covers up to her chin. The fingers of her free hand fist in the edge of the duvet to keep it tight around her; eyes closed, she ducks her head a little to hide her smile when she hears the soft pad of Castle's feet, the muffled clink as he sets her water glass down on her nightstand.

He's quiet as he changes and brushes his teeth, only the back and forth track of his footsteps clueing her in at all to what he's doing, and then the mattress dips and he is _in bed with her_.

"You're not sleeping in the stomach?" he says, the sheets tugging away from her as he arranges himself comfortably, and then there's a click as the lamp turns off and the black behind her eyelids thickens. She opens them and rolls over, Castle's body a patch of more textured darkness, a shifting shadow that makes her want to reach out, skim her fingers over his arm.

"No, I'd rather have a good night's sleep. Why?"

He shifts in the bed, edging a little nearer to her until she can feel the heat of him, his legs so close to hers that she almost wants to tuck her cold toes underneath the hem of his pajama pants, apologise for the chill with the touch of her mouth at his.

Being pretend married to him is making her a fool, drunk on proximity and soft touches, and she doesn't know how they're going to make it through this with their self control and their dignity intact.

"It's weirding me out, staring at me from the chair."

"It's dark," she snorts, a hand sliding with blind faith across the mattress until she finds him, finger jabbing at the soft place under his ribs in teasing. "You can't even see it. And if you had to _wear_ it, you would understand."

He makes a soft sound of acquiescence, just a breath through his nose a little louder than normal, and then he reaches behind himself for one of the pillows and brings it around to clutch against his chest instead. "Is it really awful?"

"It's not so bad. But I'd rather not have to sleep in it." The darkness makes her brave, feels like a sleepover with her girlfriends, and suddenly she wants to spill all of her secrets, tell him about her latest crush.

Well, more than a crush. And not the person to tell, not like this.

"Ive gotten kind of attached," she admits, remembering all over again the strangely comforting weight, the moment she fastened it on in her bedroom at home and stood in front of the full length mirror, examined herself from every angle. "I don't know why, but I feel protective over it. Like there's a really baby in there."

Her eyes have adjusted to the darkness now, enough to see the grin that stretches wide across his face, the way it takes him a moment to battle it back so that he can respond. "I think that's a good thing. It'll help you sell it as being real."

"I hope so," she murmurs, rolling onto her back again and clasping her hands, settling them at her stomach. "I don't have any experience with kids. What if the mommy group see right through me?"

"A lot of expectant parents don't have much experience. It's one hell of a learning curve when the baby comes."

That makes her laugh, imagining a young Castle grappling with his daughter's diaper change, the horrified contortion of his face, and she knows. If she ever does this for real, it will be with him. He's a great dad, could more than make up for her lack of mothering abilities, and he's her partner. She wants him by her side in this as in everything else.

"Maybe you should come to the group, too. At least you know what you're talking about."

"You'll be great," he chuckles, shifting to get comfortable, and his leg grazes hers. Kate stiffens, breath caught in her chest until he shuffles a little further away from her. "Just play up the terrified pregnant woman thing and they won't suspect you."

Rolling onto her side, her back to him now, Kate snorts and rolls her eyes, preemptive embarrassment already searing in her cheeks. "Yeah, right. Goodnight, Castle."


	3. Chapter 3

**Arcadia**

* * *

Awareness comes rushing all at once and Kate gasps, rearing upright in the bed with both hands pressed to her stomach. She was dreaming about it, about their son, but then sharp teeth pierced her from the inside and he chewed his way out, gobbled up his mother. Castle watched, cradled their newborn once he was done feeding. Standing over her body as she bled out.

Sagging back against the pillows, Kate turns to glance at him and scowls, irrationally pissed off. He's sacked out on his stomach, the sheets down around his waist and his head turned towards her, lips parted. Every so often, he makes a little snuffling noise, rubbing his face against the sheets, and she huffs.

At least one of them is getting some undisturbed sleep.

Kate glances to the alarm clock next to the bed, the red glare of the numbers making her stifle a groan. For a moment she contemplates laying back down, maybe even curling up close to her partner while he's not awake to realise it, but she'd barely get another half hour of sleep before her internal clock wrenched her awake again.

Instead, she slips out from between the sheets and pads over to the chair to collect her fake stomach. In the bathroom, she makes quick work of tugging off her clothes and dumping them on the countertop while she climbs into the bodysuit, her pyjamas delicious with her own body heat when she pulls them back on.

It's early still, enough that she has to flick on the lights in the kitchen to see the coffee machine, but she doesn't want to take any risks. Someone might come to the door, or see her through the window, and she doesn't want them to catch sight of the flat plane of her stomach.

The machine roars to life and she startles, presses a hand to her throat. After that dream, she still feels a little like she's wading through microfilm; waking up in the suburbs is making her jumpy, too much silence. She keeps expecting a car to backfire or beep its horn, sirens in the distance, the ever-present clamour of the city startling in its absence.

Once the machine is done brewing Kate pours herself a cup and pads through to the study to sit with it. She loves it in here, even if the bookcases that stretch up to the ceiling are a little sparse looking with the meagre collection of books that she and Castle brought with them.

If they were staying, if this was really their life, she would scour flea markets and those stores that seem crammed into any convenient gap, looking for titles to fill up the space. Maybe wander hand in hand with her partner, introducing each other to stories they love.

Sipping at her coffee, Kate rests her head back against the chair and watches the earth come slowly awake outside the window. It's a brilliant morning, one of those crisp winter days where it feels like the very sky might shatter above her head, and everything outside is made silvery and sublime by the kiss of frost.

She feels a little wicked with it, but Beckett is glad to be here in this beautiful house, taking her time with the morning coffee. There's no rush to dress herself in slacks and a button down, haul herself across the city and to the precinct. Most days in the winter she beats the sun to work, has to spend the first hour under the flicker of the bullpen's lights.

It always sets her up with a headache, but as soon as the chill rolls in to Manhattan she stops being able to sleep more than a handful of hours at a time, grief an ever-present spectre that gnaws in her belly. She'd rather be at work than prone, staring up at the ceiling missing her mother, so Kate works overtime until spring rolls around again.

After a while, she hears the pad of disoriented feet and she hides a grin against her palm, wipes it clean away by the time Castle finds her in the study. He's rumpled, hair fluffy and sticking up all over his head, and his jaw cracks wide on a yawn.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he leans heavily against the doorframe and smiles at her, something sleepy and boyish in it that makes her want to reach out a hand and reel him in, let her kiss wake him a little more.

"Morning," he says, coming further inside the room and propping himself against the edge of the desk. He's near enough now that she can feel the warmth of the comforter still clinging to his body, and Kate yearns to tuck herself in against his side, let his arms come around her.

"Hey," she says instead, legs dangling over the arm of the chair so that her heels drum against the side. "I didn't make you coffee, didn't want to wake you up. But I can do it now if you want?"

That makes him grin at her, his eyes closing, and his shoulders wiggle in easy happiness. She's been making an effort, since that awful case with the sniper a few weeks back. Keeping a little mental tally of those hundred coffees, his beaming smiles whenever she hands him a mug making her flush and duck her head.

"Sure. Thanks."

They pad through to the kitchen together, Castle's body warm and insistent at her back, and he slides onto a barstool while she moves to start the machine up again, feeding it fresh grounds. "You sleep okay?"

"Great," he says, and she has to turn to see if the joy in his voice is on his face too. His smile arcs wide, and then it transforms right in front of her as his eyes narrow, his lips thinning into a leer. "A lot better than I did when we were handcuffed, anyway."

"Shut up," she huffs, wishing she were close enough to swat at him. She throws a dishcloth, hits him square in the face with it and he huffs, lets it drop to the countertop.

Kate turns back to the machine and watches it percolate, fixes a little splash of peppermint at the bottom of his mug, and then her shoulders lift in a tiny shrug and she pulls open the cabinet, finds some hot chocolate powder and stirs that into the milk.

He loves mocha, loves even more the fresh breeze of mint in the winter, and she knows even the fact that she's noticed will make him happy. Kate pours the hot chocolate into the mug on top of the peppermint syrup, adds the espresso shot and stirs it all together.

Both hands cradling his cup, she comes to the island to hand it to him and he bows his head over it to breath deeply, a low groan rumbling in his throat at the smell. "Wow. Thanks, Kate."

"You're welcome," she smiles, sinking onto the stool at his side so that she doesn't wriggle in pleasure. Her hands settle naturally at the curve of her stomach and Castle's eyes linger for a moment before he turns away and sips his coffee instead.

"Mm," he smiles, eyes fluttering closed a moment as he swallows, and he holds the mug close against his chest as if to let the warmth leach into his belly from the outside. "Where'd you even get all the stuff? I was thinking we'd need to go grocery shopping today. We don't have much."

Kate lifts an eyebrow at him, one shoulder coming up as well in foolish pride, and the gutting adoration on his face when he looks at her makes warmth flare in her cheeks. "I brought some stuff from my apartment. Mostly the contents of my coffee cabinet."

"Oh, your coffee cabinet," he moans, his face lax with nostalgia as if remembering an old friend, and Kate chuckles.

After she was shot, that awful evening when grief's claws caught in her throat and had her choking on sobs right in front of him, when she felt the loss of everybody connected to the case as keenly as her own raw wounds, Castle had brought her in to an embrace.

It wasn't them, felt putrid in its wrongness, but Kate let him hold her against the wall of his chest, ear over his heart and his body so warm around her. She hadn't been warm since the shooting, trembling with the ice in her bones even at the cabin. More than once she had stretched out on her father's little dock, the wood warming her body like a lizard, but the moment she got up again her teeth had rattled with cold and pain both.

For the first time since spring, in her kitchen in the middle of the night with her partner's arms around her, Kate felt the heat leech into her bones and her eyes had closed, her body sagging. And then she'd squirmed her way out of the hug and pulled open the cabinet, fixed them both a coffee.

"We don't have any food though," she laughs, raking a hand through her hair and wincing a little at the snaggle she encounters, the knots where she's tossed in the night. "I'm gonna go shower while you finish your coffee, then you can, and then we'll go grocery shopping?"

"Sure," he pauses, setting his mug down on the countertop and clasping his hands, resting them in his lap. She watches him make a conscious effort to drop his shoulders, the work of his throat as he swallows, and he coughs a little before he finds the words he needs. "Beckett, if it's. . .a problem. Sharing a bed with me. I can take the couch. I don't want you to lose sleep or anything."

Settling back in her seat a little, the hard edge of the granite countertop crunches against the ridges of her spine and Kate laughs a little, shaking her head. "Kind of a weird decision on the part of the old owners, right? A four bedroom house where only one of the rooms actually has a bed."

"God forbid we want to have guests," he agrees, and then he catches himself and winces, cowers away from her in mock terror. "Not that- I know it's not our real house, and we won't be having guests. But nobody else knows that. I just mean-"

"I know what you mean," she rescues him, reaching out before she can think further on it and patting his knee. Even his leg is warm through the material of his pajama pants, and she doesn't understand how he manages it.

Maybe it's just psychosomatic, because she is so very in love with him, and so of course his presence feels like shelter to her. Of course he's warm and soft under her touch.

"So you don't mind?" he asks, hand coming to cover hers on his leg before she can take it back. His thumb strokes little circles at the base of hers and he ducks his chin enough to meet her eyes, hope softening his own at the corners.

Teeth sinking hard into her bottom lip, Kate busies herself with her other hand at her stomach, stroking as if to soothe the little one she imagines rolling inside her. Castle hasn't teased her yet, hasn't seemed anything other than smitten with her and totally unsurprised by her attachment to the fake pregnancy.

Gratitude makes her brave and she smiles, flips her hand under his so that their fingers can lace together. "I don't mind. I'm not about to banish you to the couch, Castle. We're grownups. We're friends. It's not a big deal."

"Right," he says, mustering a smile for her. Too late, she realises what she's done.

It _is_ a big deal, all of this is. And she's snatched hope out from his tentative grasp, put a thorn in his side that will prickle every time he softens into thinking about them. Every time he dares to believe that one day they will share a bed and it will be a big deal, will be everything they've both worked towards.

"Castle-" she starts, but he untangles himself from the grip of their hands and lifts his to silence her.

Sliding off the barstool, he makes a detour to put his mug in the sink before he comes back to stand at her side. Squeezing her shoulder, he offers her a smile that falls flat, nowhere close to his usual boyish grin and her heart feels raw with sorrow.

"Go take a shower, Kate. I'll get started on a list of groceries we need."

"Okay," she nods, slipping down from her stool and stretching to her full height. The curve of her pregnant stomach brushes Castle's abdomen and he shivers, a hand coming up between them as if to touch before he balls it into a fist and drops it down to press against his thigh.

She leaves him there, in the kitchen in his pyjamas with desolation all over his face.

* * *

She had plenty of time to get dressed while her partner was in the shower, so Kate took the opportunity to put on lipstick and add a few extra curls to her hair. It will help her fit in here, she told herself. Ignoring the little voice that teased her for wanting to look pretty, wanting to impress her partner.

When he comes out of the bathroom, already dressed in jeans and a navy sweater, his face transforms with pleasure and he beams, comes to sit on the end of their bed and watch her finishing up. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, Castle," she says, meeting his eyes in the mirror over the dresser and sharing a smile with him. After a moment, she dips her head again, rubbing a little moisturiser into her hands. Through the winter her skin is always so dry, brittle with it, and sometimes it cracks into deep, angry fissures around her knuckles. Keeping her skin supple with the fancy hand cream she gets as a Christmas gift from Aunt Theresa every year does wonders.

Once she's done, she turns to face her partner, her cheeks pinking under his scrutiny. She's wearing black skinny jeans today, a navy and white striped shirt that somehow - impossibly - makes the bump seem even bigger. Kate heads for the laundry room with Castle stumbling along behind her, eager as a puppy and crashing into things just the same way.

She pulls on a navy coat, the oversized brass buttons a fun little detail that drew her to it in the first place. A black and red checkered scarf wrapped around her neck, and then Kate pulls on her suede ankle boots and settles on the little wooden bench seat to watch her partner armour himself against the weather.

Once Castle has his own shoes on, his grey wool coat, and a blue striped scarf wound twice around his neck and tucked into the lapel of his jacket, he holds out a hand to Kate and helps her to her feet. His fingers flex in her grip as if he expects her to let go and Kate holds on tight, tucks their joined hands into the depth of his coat pocket.

Her partner collects the car keys from the little catch-all table by the front door, locking it behind them when they step out onto the porch, and then they get to the car and Kate has to let him go. Heading for the passenger side, she stops at an exclamation behind her, turns to find their neighbour on the other side to Helen and Jeff out on his driveway.

"You must be the new folks," he smiles, walking across his own front lawn to get to them and reaching for her hand to shake, accepting the grip of Castle's palm when he comes around the car to offer it. "I'm Chris, I live next door. Hold on, let me get my wife and the kids to come introduce themselves. Don't move."

Kate chuckles and turns to glance at her partner, taking a shuffling step closer to his side so that his body can shield her from the cold a little. His arm comes around her shoulders, and when the neighbours' front door opens and the whole family comes trooping out, his lips skim her temple.

For their benefit, she assumes, but all the same it makes her breath catch in her throat. "Rick."

"Sorry," he murmurs, untangling himself from her so that he can shake hands with Chris' wife, and then he kneels down to put himself at eye level with their two kids. A boy and a girl, the latter maybe seven or eight and her brother a couple of years younger. "Hi there. I'm Rick. What are your names?"

"Harriet," the little girl says, as her brother clings to his father's leg, face buried against Chris' thigh. "That's Jacob. I'm eight; he's six."

That makes Castle smile and he offers a hand to the girl for her to shake, her tiny fingers dwarfed by his bear paw. "It's lovely to meet you, Harriet and Jacob."

"I'm Beth," their mother says laughingly, a hand cradling the curve of her son's skull as he cowers between his parents, face still firmly hidden. "Welcome to the neighbourhood. Sorry about the pyjamas. We just got up to say goodbye to Daddy before he goes to work."

"Oh, don't worry," Castle says, straightening up again and settling his palm low down at Kate's spine, between the flare of her hips. "If I had a choice I wouldn't be dressed yet either, but Mrs Rodgers is an early riser."

Blushing, Kate nudges an elbow into her partner's underbelly and shakes her head, sharing a look with Beth. "It's Kate. This is Rick, my husband."

"So nice to meet you both," Chris smiles, lifting his son into his arms when the boy shivers violently. Jacob buries his face against the warm skin of his father's neck, but his courage seems to be swelling the longer he spends with them and he lifts his head to peek at Kate and her partner every so often.

Touching three fingers to her husband's arm, Beth shares a glance with him, her fingers carding through the blonde spill of her daughter's hair. "It's a little cold for these two to be out and not properly dressed, I think. But Kate, there's a group of mothers that meet in the church every Tuesday and Thursday, for coffee and a chat. I could call for you and we could go together if you'd like?"

"That sounds wonderful, thank you."

"I'll see you at three, then. Bye guys," Beth says, taking her son from Chris' arms and herding her daughter back towards the house.

Kate and her partner stay, both leaning against the car, until Chris pulls out of the driveway in his sedan, waving at them as he passes. Once he's gone, Castle groans and turns to look at her, swiping a hand through his hair.

"Is it just me, or is everybody we meet a picture perfect family? Nobody we've come across so far seems like a killer."

"Well, they might not be," Kate offers, opening her door and sliding into the passenger seat. Castle moves around to the driver's side and climbs in, fastening his belt and awakening the engine before he pulls smoothly out of the driveway. "We don't know for sure that there is a killer involved. That they weren't just unfortunate accidents."

That makes him scoff and he flicks a glance towards her, his eyes starting to roll before he seems to realise what he's doing and gulps, turning back to look out of the windshield at the road ahead. "Four women, all fitting the same profile, die at three month intervals under suspicious circumstances? Something is going on here, Beckett, and somebody here knows what it is. We just have to find them."

"We will," she says, determination swelling in her words, and then she falls quiet so that he can hear the GPS as it directs him towards the grocery store.

They've never done this before, never gone shopping together, but somehow they fall seamlessly into a routine. Castle collects the cart, resting his weight on the handle and lifting his feet to glide smoothly down the aisle until she catches her fingers in the bottom of his coat and tugs him back to her.

She's in charge of wielding the list, but she lets him go wandering off to collect junk food while she browses, selecting vegetables to add to their cart. He comes back with his arms laden, dumping his haul into the cart and grinning widely at her.

It's all she can do to stare at him, astounded by this man and the childlike joy that comes pouring into her life just at knowing him.

"What?" he huffs, eyes flicking self-consciously away from her a moment and his hands pushing into his the pockets of his pants.

A smile overtakes her and she lets him see it, allows her whole face to scrunch up in delight with him. "Nothing. Just. . .you're really enjoying this, huh?"

"Shopping?"

"Domesticity," she clarifies, arranging the things he's offloaded into the cart so that they're not crushing the vegetables. He's quiet for a little longer than she's come to expect from him and Kate lifts her head to look at him again, taking in the twin spots of colour high up in his cheeks.

At her frown, he shrugs and scuffs the toe of his shoe along the linoleum, turning half away from her at a commotion near the front of the store. It lasts barely a second - an elderly lady got her cart tangled with a display stand - and then his attention is back on her, his mouth turning down at the corners as his shoulders come up. "I guess so. I like food, I like having an excuse not to work. And I. . .I like you. Spending time with you."

"You like me?" she grins, feeling like it's eighth grade again and she's been passed a note in class. _Check yes or no_ , and Kate tucks her hair back behind her ears and faces him head on, summoning the courage she never had when she was a pimply, gangly teen who didn't know what she was doing with eyeliner or her hair. "I like you too, Rick."

"Phew," he grins, swiping a hand across his forehead and laughing a little too forcefully, his whole body tilting. "That could have been awkward."

"Uh-huh," she laughs at him, shaking her head, and before she even knows what's happening he's scampering away from her again, calling something over his shoulder about his having forgotten to get chips, and then he disappears around the end of the aisle.

* * *

"So," Kate says casually, one leg crossed over the other on Bill and Maggie's couch. "Did you know the people who lived in our house before?"

When they came back from grocery shopping they unpacked and ate brunch together, at the dining table for the first time even though it felt a little ridiculous with just the two of them there, and they were barely done clearing away the dishes when a knock sounded out at the front door. Maggie invited Kate over for tea, something about wanting her to have a friend to rely on if she needed anything, and now here she is.

"Well of course there were the interior designers, but they only stayed a couple of months. It was amazing really, how quickly they made the house what it is now."

"It's beautiful," Kate agrees, sipping at the tea Maggie fixed for her. It's strawberry and mango, no caffeine, and surprisingly good. She had no idea that not being able to have coffee, at least in front of people, would be quite such a strain, but she only caught herself at the very last second. She had been about to ask for a latte, about to blow their entire cover barely a day into the case. "What about before them? I always like to know the stories of the places I live, you know?"

Maggie nods enthusiastically, taking just a moment to straighten the lace covering on the side table next to the couch before she twists a little, turning to face Kate. Her legs are crossed at the ankles, knees pressed tightly together, and tea with her is close to how Beckett imagines it might be to spend time with royalty.

"Of course, dear. I feel much the same way. But oh, it's terribly sad, what happened."

"It is?" Kate says, straightening a little in her chair and setting her empty cup down on the side table, her hands coming to rest atop the curve of her stomach. She's careful not to seem too eager, not to strain forward in her seat for the story the way the cop in her aches to.

Shaking her head, Maggie's entire being transforms into sorrow. It's impressive actually, the dexterity with which the older woman displays her empathy, and Kate finds herself strangely at ease. For a moment, she really believes that they might be friends, that Maggie could be somebody to turn to whenever she worries about the pregnancy. Somebody to help out with a newborn.

"The family that lived there before, the Kirchmaiers. . . well dear, Mary-Anne was setting up for the Valentine's dance, putting up decorations, and she fell from her ladder. It was so high, and the way she fell, she-" Maggie chokes out a little noise, something that might have been a sob if somebody with less decorum had made it. "She hit her head, and she died, Kate dear. And her husband Paul and the kids - Joseph and Harry - they couldn't bear to be in that house. It just reminded them too much of Mary-Anne. So they moved away."

"How _awful_ ," Kate says, finds herself swept clean away by the drama of it all. She still hasn't quite been able to shake the Stepford creepiness of this place, and it feeds into the rose-tinted unsettlement of being here. She feels like if she were to get too close to anything, really inspect it, the whole damn community would crack open and let the festering interior come spilling out.

Well, that's kind of the whole reason she and her partner are here in the first place. She had expected Castle to be excited, his childishness to feed off of the adrenaline of being here undercover, pretend married to her, but she wasn't anticipating that same excitement to come rising up from the pit of her own stomach.

"It was so tragic," Maggie says, both hands clasped and pressed against her heart now. There are actual tears glistening in her eyes, and Kate can't help wondering what it would be like to live someplace like this. Somewhere the neighbours invite you for tea and take a keen interest in your life, are moved to tears if something happens to you.

Kate shakes her head, sweeping the spill of her hair over one shoulder and leaning back against the arm of the couch, her hand smoothing over the curve of her stomach. "I know it's horrible, what happened, but it's wonderful to see how the neighbours care about one another here. That's what drew us to this place when it came to choosing our forever home. We wanted to raise our children someplace where we could let them play out front without being worried."

"There's a real community spirit here," Maggie agrees, reaching out to take one of Kate's hands in both of hers and squeeze. "There was another woman that died here, back in May, and all the other women took turns cooking for the family and taking care of the children. Little Arrabella was only seven months old when it happened, Lionel only two."

"Another woman died?" Kate probes, does her best to transform her face into the right mixture of surprise and horror. "What happened?"

Maggie shifts in her seat, suddenly a little uncomfortable, and Kate figures this must be a sore spot for her. The wife of the president of the Homeowner's Association, and she probably doesn't want the string of deaths to grow in publicity.

"Her name was Polly Coyne-Maskin. Her husband, Carl, took the children to the park and she stayed behind to make dinner. She was still wearing a scarf, and the end of it must have become tangled in the food processor, because it choked her. A horrible, horrible accident."

Kate presses a hand to her mouth and stares at Maggie, letting the silence work in her favour. After a moment, she composes herself and settles her hand at her stomach to join the other. "That's so awful. But reassuring to know that if something happened to me, the community would take care of Rick and the baby."

"Of course we would, dear," Maggie says, wiping her palms off on her skirt before she stands and collects both of their cups. "Can I get you some more tea?"

"Oh, no, thank you," Kate stands as well, collecting her coat from the arm of the chair and shrugging her way into it. "I should be getting home. We've still got a lot to organise."

The excuse seems to fly and Maggie smiles, following Kate to the front door and opening it for her, folding her arms across her chest. "It was lovely to talk with you, Kate. Any time you need anything at all, even if it's just a friend, you know where I am."

"Thank you," Kate smiles, out on the porch now, and she shivers a little, pulls the coat tighter around herself. "I'd better get inside, to the warm. Thank you again for the tea."

Maggie keeps watch from the doorway until Kate rounds the end of the block, lifting up onto tiptoe to wave, and then Beckett has to force herself not to jog back to the house. She learned so much just from talking with Maggie, learned that nobody in the community seems to have any suspicions, and her eagerness to tell her partner about it wells up ferociously so that she bursts through the door, the commotion startling him and making him trip over himself to meet her in the entryway.

"Come upstairs, to the precinct room," she says, bouncing on her toes with the thrill of progress made. "I have so much to tell you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Arcadia**

* * *

When the doorbell rings Kate is on her knees, surrounded by the case files of their victims. She's trying to piece together commonalities between them, and from that establish a profile for their possible killer. It's difficult; not being able to interview the victims' families leaves her handicapped. In fact, she's largely relying on her partner's ability to spin a story to make progress in the case.

"I'll get it," Castle says, already halfway out of the door, and Kate stays on the floor to listen to the thunder of his footsteps on the stairs before she hauls herself to her feet. Her partner's voice calls up to her and she smiles, rakes a hand through her hair. "Kate, honey, it's Beth here for you."

Right. She's supposed to go to the mommy group today. Panic wells up in her chest and Beckett sucks a slow breath in through her nose, taking just a moment to collect herself and shake off her cop persona. One hand settling against the curve of her stomach, Kate pads her way down the stairs and to the front door.

Beth is inside the entryway, the door closed to stop the heat from escaping, and when Kate gets to the bottom of the stairs Castle leans in to brush a kiss to her cheek. She accepts it, turning her face towards him a moment before she takes a step closer to their neighbour.

"Hey. Sorry, I lost track of time. We were trying to organise some of the upstairs rooms. Let me just grab my coat."

"Of course," Beth smiles, and Kate heads for the laundry room to pull on her coat and scarf. She finds gloves as well and tugs them on, doesn't want her fingers getting any more wind-chapped than they already are.

Back in the entryway, Castle pulls open the front door for them and Beth steps out onto the front porch, turning back to wait for Kate to say goodbye to her husband. She steps through the door, but something inside her wants to do more, offer him an apology for this morning. Twisting back around to face her partner, Beckett leans across the threshold and stretches up onto the tips of her toes, dusts a kiss to the very corner of his mouth.

"Bye," she says softly, peering up at him as heat floods her cheeks.

It takes him a second, but Castle gets himself together. He wipes the awe off of his face, gets the slackness of his jaw under control, and his hand comes to settle between the stark wings of her shoulder blades to reel her back in close to him. His mouth lands at her forehead, lips forming a kiss there, and then he pulls back and cups the side of her face in his palm, his fingers sliding into her hair and splaying wide across her skull. "Have a good time."

"Oh, you two are just precious," Beth says, both hands clasped and pressed against her heart, and Kate turns away from her partner to face their neighbour, teeth sinking into her lip and her head ducked. A breath of laughter escapes Beth and she flutters her hands in the air, eyes darting between them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's okay," Kate says, wiggling her fingers in a little wave at her partner before she descends the steps, trusting that Beth will follow her. "We're just not usually so affectionate in public. But since I got pregnant, he's been. . .protective. Falling over himself to take care of me."

Eyes flicking to the side, she catches the soft delight on her neighbour's face, how pleased Beth seems to be for them. "That's wonderful, Kate. He's a keeper."

"Yeah," she huffs, a gust of wind making her shiver and clutch her coat tighter around herself. She's not sure where all this is coming from, why she finds it so easy to talk about the relationship that she and her partner don't yet have.

Of the two of them, she didn't expect to be the one to get so caught up in the story. It's good, because it means their cover is less likely to be blown, but it also means that every time she looks at him a great tide of longing wells up inside her and she wants to do something foolish.

The church is only a couple of blocks over from their house, and she's grateful for the wall of heat that rises to meet them when they step inside. There's a little kitchen area to their right, just off the entryway, and a handful of women are already here, fixing coffee and biscuits and arranging them artfully onto trays.

Beth hooks her arm through Kate's and steps inside the room, calling out to the women. "Cathy, Julia, Laurel, this is Kate. She just moved in yesterday, next door to me."

"Oh, welcome to the neighbourhood," one of the women grins widely and steps away from the counter, wiping her palms on the material of her slacks before she extends a hand to shake Kate's. "I'm Cathy. This is Julia, Laurel," she gestures to each of the women in turn, and Beckett files their names away. "Is this your first child?"

"Yes," she nods, both hands resting against her stomach. She feels a little sick with deception, hating that she has to lie to all of these women when they're so generous with their kindness and their enthusiasm.

One of the other women, Julia, comes to take Kate's hand in both of hers and she lingers for a moment, squeezing Beckett's fingers. "How wonderfully exciting. Well, if there's anything you need, just ask. Everyone here has been through exactly what you're going through."

"Thank you," Kate says, mustering a smile for the four women all looking at her. There's a pause, a beat of silence, and then everybody reanimates again.

It's like a dance, the way the women move around one another in the cramped kitchen, and Kate feels cumbersome, a nuisance. She leaves the kitchen, leaves Beth behind, and she heads for the main space of the church.

There's a little area set up for kids to play, a gaggle of them engaged with various toys, and a woman sits in a chair and watches over them, a baby cradled in the crook of her arm.

"Hi," Kate says, dragging another chair over and sinking to sit. Both hands fold atop her baby bump and the other woman turns in her seat, offering Beckett a timid smile. "I'm Kate. I just moved here."

"Alice," the woman says, untangling one hand from around the baby and offering it to Kate for her to shake. She does, Alice's hand warm and soft, and the shy quirk of her mouth sets Kate instantly at ease. "This is my son, Connor."

Leaning against the back of Alice's chair, Kate peers at the baby's curious little face, her lips peeling back around a grin that he returns immediately. He giggles and then, suddenly shy, he buries his face against his mother's chest.

"He's gorgeous," Kate says, honesty swelling in her words, and she reaches out to touch one fingertip to the baby's palm. His little starfish hand closes up tight around her finger and she smiles wider, practically cooing at him.

"Thanks," Alice chuckles, her fingers stroking the soft cap of hair at the baby's head. "How far along are you?"

She hesitates barely a moment, all of the basic facts of their cover drilled into her in the car on the way here. "Twenty eight weeks."

"Oh, that's the best," Alice breathes, shifting her son in her arms when he starts to fuss, his little face transforming with grumpiness. "The nausea and the exhaustion starts to subside, but it's before you get really huge and you feel like you're never going to be comfortable ever again. Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Right," Kate laughs. Later tonight, before bed, she'll take off her bump and leave it draped over a chair; it feels like cheating, to share in commiserations with this woman who is actually a mother, who couldn't shed her pregnancy like a coat she had grown tired of.

Two of the kids on the floor reach for the same toy, some noisy, plastic contraption, and then there's a shriek as one of the children lunges at the other. Alice huffs a sigh and hands the baby over to Kate, getting to her knees in the playpen.

"Do you mind holding him while I deal with this? It's the job of the mom with the youngest child to watch over everyone, so Kate," she pauses to turn over her shoulder and glance at Beckett, a wry little smile quirking at one corner of her mouth. "I'm afraid it'll be your turn in a few months."

"Oh," she says, both hands awkward around the little one in her arms, but he seems contented enough. He reaches up to grab for a handful of her hair and tugs hard; her eyes water and she yelps, uncurls his fingers. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

Alice finally succeeds in separating the two warring kids, distracting one of them with another toy that doesn't seem to be any different to the one they're both coveting. Getting to her feet, she takes her son back from Kate and sinks to sit again, Connor now propped upright and peering at Beckett from over his mother's shoulder.

"Neither did I. But everybody in the group was great. Really supportive, and eager to help."

"Yeah," Kate says quietly, fiddling with the end of her scarf. "I'm getting that impression. Maggie was telling me yesterday about how the community rallied around the families of the two women that died. It's so good to hear that if anything happened to me, Rick - that's my husband - and the baby would be alright."

Alice shifts in her chair to face Kate a little more, one eyebrow arching. Connor gurgles a string of happy noises and she glances down at him, leaning down to rest him on the play mat next to her chair. Immediately, his feet come up to kick at the hanging objects, and Alice watches her son a moment before she turns back to Kate.

"Two women? Who did she tell you about?"

"Um, Mary-Anne Kirchmaier and Polly Coyne-Maskin," Kate says, frowning just a little, as if it's a struggle to remember their names. As if she wasn't writing them out in neat block print to add to their timeline a little less than an hour ago. "How awful, to have two accidents in the same year."

A soft sigh escapes Alice and she shakes her head, crossing one leg over the other and folding her arms. A little awkwardly, as if she doesn't quite know what to do with them now that they're empty of her son. "We've had four."

"Four?" Beckett gasps, leaning forward a little in her chair.

"Yeah. Mary-Anne died in February and Polly in May. And then in August, Rachel Eddowes was setting up for a pool party that she was hosting. She slipped and hit her head, she fell in the pool, and she drowned."

Kate's hand flies up to cover her mouth, the other at her stomach as if in protection, and she widens her eyes a little. "How awful."

"And then last month, Susie Milne was electrocuted while she was changing a light bulb in her basement."

Susie is the mayor's cousin, the entire reason they're here. He had been adamant that she would never have forgotten to turn off the mains supply to the house, that she wouldn't take that risk. Not with a husband and a daughter relying on her.

"Did you know them well?" Kate asks, glancing down at Connor when he shrieks with delight, grinning at himself in the mirror above his head.

A little nod, and Alice turns her face away from Kate for a moment, visibly puts herself together. "All four of them were part of the group. Influential members, too. They organised playdates and cookouts and parties, took charge of most of the family oriented activities that go on."

"What a bizarre coincidence," Kate says, a little shiver rattling through her, and she laces her fingers together and settles them on top of her bump.

Leaning forward in her chair, Alice casts a furtive glance towards the door of the kitchen, to check that nobody's listening. Satisfied, she turns back to Kate and holds her gaze, her voice low and urgent. "Can I share a secret with you? I'm not so sure that it was a coincidence."

* * *

"Hi," Castle greets her warmly when she comes into the kitchen, shucking her way out of her coat and draping it over a barstool. She lets her scarf pool on top of it, sets her gloves down on the countertop, and then Kate comes around the island.

Her partner is chopping vegetables for dinner, and Kate slides her arms around his waist and rests her forehead to the wing of his shoulder blade, suddenly exhausted with the whole charade. "That was awful."

"Beckett?" he chokes out, setting down the knife and turning in the circle of her arms. His own come around her, one palm cradling the curve of her skull and the other drifting up and down the length of her spine, and Kate buries her face against the heat of his neck. "What happened?"

Pulling back enough to look at him, guilt swamps her and she swallows hard, bites down on her bottom lip to stop it trembling. "They were all so kind, Castle. Kept telling me over and over that they'll do anything they can to help us when the baby comes, that I didn't need to worry about a thing. I'm a horrible person."

"Hey, shh," he soothes, tucking her hair back behind both ears. His thumb strokes underneath her eye as if to collect phantom tears, and in her socked feet she wants to tuck herself up close to him, let his body dwarf hers. "You're not horrible, Kate. Yes, you're not being honest with these women-"

"Deceitful, more like," she grumps, and he dips his chin until his lips meet her forehead, a chuckle rumbling out of him.

"Alright, whatever word you want to use. My point is, we're here to get justice for four dead women. To stop anybody else being killed. I think that's a pretty noble motive for being. . .less than forthcoming, with the truth."

Her shoulders come up and she lets her body fall against her partner's again, the curve of her stomach preventing her from snuggling in against him like she wants to. "It's exhausting. I wish we didn't have to pretend."

"You wanna get married for real?" he teases and she swats at him, grumbling to herself as she breaks away from the cove of his arms. "Go sit, let me make you some coffee. I bet you had to drink tea in front of all of those women, didn't you?"

Sinking to sit on one of the barstools, Kate props her elbows against the countertop and drops her head into her hands, a groan escaping her. "They didn't have decaf. I drank juice. The same as the children."

"Oh, _no_ ," he laughs, and when Kate lifts her head to see him his whole face is creased up in mirth as he potters around the kitchen, fixing her coffee for her.

She scowls at the broad stretch of his back, juvenile in her irritation, but when he comes to set a mug down in front of her and the steam curls up to collect like fog along the crag face of her jaw, she can't help the little noise of bliss that escapes her.

"So did you learn much?" he asks her, busying himself at the chopping board again. It piques her interest, and Kate opens her mouth to ask what he's making and then thinks better of it, sips at her drink instead.

He clearly wants to surprise her with dinner, the little thrum of excitement in his shoulders like a child who can't wait to show off their handiwork, so Kate bites back her questions. She can wait until he sets the plate in front of her. "I made a friend, Alice. She told me about the two other victims, and she told me that she doesn't think it's a coincidence. That something sinister is going on."

"Wow," he says, glancing over his shoulder at her before he turns back to wrangle with a particularly stubborn carrot. A shout of triumph escapes him when it finally cleaves in two, and Kate hides her grin against her palm. "She's the first one who hasn't written it off as a string of tragedies, right?"

"Or at least the first who hasn't pretended they're not even a little bit suspicious," Kate agrees, both hands wrapping around her mug now. His coffee is perfect, always has been, and she lets him hear her soft noises of appreciation as she sips at it.

Castle adds the chopped carrots to a pan with some oil and lights the burner underneath it, leaves them to cook while he collects ground beef from the fridge and adds that to the pan as well, tosses in some onion. His back is to her, bowed as he is over his cooking, so Kate allows herself the indulgence of watching him work.

The muscles of his shoulders are thick and powerful, even under the fabric of his sweater, and Kate almost blurts out an apology for this morning. An assurance that it is a big deal, and she does want to share a bed with him for real.

Instead, she sets her empty mug down and drums her fingernails against the granite countertop. "Apparently all four women were very involved with the mommy group, usually the ones to organise activities and events for everyone to enjoy."

"Okay, so?" Castle says slowly, glancing at her for just a second as if to encourage her to elaborate.

"So, maybe whoever killed them is somebody who's jealous. Maybe someone who doesn't have kids, or who always gets relegated to a less important job."

An eyebrow lifts at that and he reaches past her for a wooden spoon from the utensil pot. His bicep grazes her breasts, and even though they're padded by the pregnancy suit, her whole body comes alive at the sensation.

It makes her feel lazy and predatory all at once, like a lioness. She doesn't need to be concerned about the chase; she already has him.

"You think that's a motive for murder?" Castle says, his voice a little too measured. Twin spots of colour appear high up in his cheeks and Kate takes pity on him, shuffles a few steps further away.

"No," she admits, scraping a hand through her hair in frustration. "It doesn't seem like enough, does it."

Her partner shrugs, adding tomato purée, Worcestershire sauce and some beef stock to the pan with the meat and carrots before he covers it and turns the heat down low. "That needs to cook for forty minutes. Wanna go up to the precinct room and hash it out some more?"

"Sure," Kate says, tangling her fingers with his and leading him towards the stairs.

In the foyer, his free hand comes to her elbow and squeezes, bringing her to a stop. Kate turns to face him, forehead already creased into a frown, and her partner's gaze remains on the clasp of their hands for a moment before he lifts his eyes to her face. "Kate. What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You keep touching me. Not that it's a problem." he blurts immediately, eyes searching her face. Satisfied with what he finds there, Castle circles his thumb at the knobbly bone in her wrist. "I just- where are the boundaries."

Kate takes her hand back from his grip, but before he even has time to deflate she steps in close, lays her head against his chest. Sideways now, so that she fits against him a little better, and Castle's hand descends to rest against her fake stomach.

If anybody sees them through the glass pane in the front door, it will seem like a tender moment between husband and wife. And that's exactly why she can't deny herself. "I can't keep turning it on and off, Rick. It's just easier to keep up the charade all the time, even when nobody's necessarily watching us."

"So you. . .you want us to act like a real couple?" he says, hesitation making him shy away from her a little. Hope flares, brilliant and breathtaking, and she watches his whole body transform with it.

"I just don't want to have to stop myself from hugging you when we're alone, and then accidentally pull away from you in front of somebody and end up blowing our cover."

That makes him laugh, his arm sliding around her shoulders and squeezing. "Right. I know my hugs are irresistible, Kate."

"Castle," she says, craning her neck to see him. From this angle, tucked neatly underneath his chin, she gets only a shard of cheekbone, one slow-blinking eye. A sliver of a smile. "What I'm saying is, I don't want to stop myself. But if that's going to be a problem for you, if it gives you. . .false hope, then I will. I don't want to hurt you."

He dusts a kiss to the crown of her head and then Castle steps back from her, untangling himself from where she's somehow gotten ensnared in his grip so that he can turn the full arc of his smile towards her. "Nothing false in my hope. I know what we're working towards."

"Okay," she nods, spinning away from him so that he won't see the bloom of heat in her cheeks, creeping up the column of her neck. Kate ascends the stairs, her partner's body warm and insistent at her back, and she heads for their makeshift precinct and the files still laid out on the floor.

"I think you might be right," her partner says as he comes inside, sinking to join her on his knees and pour over the files. "I think maybe something happened to trigger it. Maybe one of the women who lives here had a miscarriage, or some other traumatic event occurred, and it pushed her over the edge."

Kate chews on her lip, pushing her hair back out of her face. It falls forward again immediately, what with the way she's leaning over the papers on the floor, and she huffs a sigh and pushes it back again. A hand appears in her field of vision, hair elastic trapped between two fingers and she smiles, captures the whole messy spill in a knot at her nape.

"Thanks. So you think our killer is a woman?"

"It makes sense, with what you were saying about jealousy," he shrugs, fishing through a stack of files until he comes up with the autopsy report on the mayor's daughter. "All of the deaths seem accidental, right? But what about this. What if there's a woman here, not part of the mommy club. Maybe she never wanted kids, maybe she's been trying unsuccessfully for years. But she's jealous of all of them, of the community-within-a-community that they have."

Kate makes a little noise of ascent, sitting back on her feet to watch her partner as he spins the story. He's shuffling through papers still, making a little pile to one side, and Kate makes a mental note to fix the whiteboard they brought to the wall as soon as possible.

"Something happens, and she snaps. The jealousy overtakes her. So she targets these women, popular women with happy families, and she sets out to kill them."

He spreads the four autopsy reports out, the cause of death highlighted on each one. Each determined to be accidental by the medical examiner, but the more they learn about the circumstances of the deaths, the less inclined Kate is to believe that.

"She pushes Mary-Anne off that ladder, feeds the end of Polly's scarf into the food processor, hits Rachel over the head and knocks her into the pool, and turns the mains supply back on while Susie's changing the lightbulb. All explained away as accidents, because each time she was the only one there to see it happen."

"I think you're right," Kate says, reaching for the autopsy reports and leafing through them. "I just don't know how we're going to prove it. There's no witnesses. Nobody who knows what really happened."

Castle glances over at her, leaning against the wall and letting his head thump back on a groan. "And that's why it's been nine months and this person is still out there. I have an idea though."

"Oh?"

"What if you make yourself a target?"

Kate huffs a breath of laughter and rolls her eyes, picking at a nonexistent thread on the thigh of her pants. "And just how would I do that?"

"It'd be easy," her partner shrugs, gesturing towards the four photographs of the victims where they're tacked to the wall. "The women targeted are young, beautiful, popular mothers. You fit all of those criteria."

Cheeks aflame, Kate ducks her head and her eyes flutter closed, her breath coming in little gasps. He thinks she's _beautiful_ , and it isn't news to her, but it still makes her guts twist hard. "I'm not exactly popular. We just moved here yesterday."

"Come on Kate," he sighs, as if her self-deprecation exhausts him, and her eyes come open just in time to watch him knee-walk across the floor to her and reach for her hand, cradling it in both of his. "I know what it's like to meet you, and be immediately intrigued. I've seen the way that you are with people, with victims' families and with suspects. How compassionate you are, how kind. I know-" he pauses, suddenly sheepish, and she watches his throat work as he swallows. "I know what it's like to want to be your friend."

"Castle-"

"I bet they're all desperate to be friends with you, Kate," he ploughs right through her, joviality forced into his words, and then he gets to his feet and squeezes her shoulder. "So you volunteer yourself, become as well-liked and as important as all of the victims were."

"And then what?" she says, shifting to cross her legs underneath herself and frown at him. "Just hope that she tries to kill me next?"

Castle casts his eyes away from her and her heart softens with guilt; reaching for him, she lays a palm against his shoulder, ducking her head to get into his line of sight. He shrugs, meeting her gaze again. "I don't have a better idea."

"It could work," she offers, dropping her hand when her partner gets to his feet.

He hesitates in the doorway, turning back to look at her, and one hand slides into his pocket in wrenching nonchalance. "I'm gonna check on dinner. You wanna. . .stay up here?"

"I'll come with you," she says, accepting the hand he offers to help her to her feet. "I'm not sure we can make much more progress tonight."

Not in the case anyway.

Kate follows her partner downstairs and into the kitchen, settling onto a barstool again to watch him. He boils potatoes and mashes them together with a little butter and some milk, adds the meat to a dish and spreads the mashed potato on top.

After he slides the whole thing into the oven, Castle comes to stand at her side and his arm wraps around her shoulders again, easing her nearer until she's leaning against him, her ear to his heart. "I really like this."

"Me too," she murmurs, turning her head just a little, until her nose meets the soft knit of his sweater. He smells good, a little like himself and a little like their dinner, and her eyes slide closed.

She's needed a hug since she got shot. Since Raglan got shot right in front of them, if she's honest, and it's so good to be in his arms now. Her gentle, patient man. He won't push her for more, not when he's so grateful for every inch she has to offer, and Kate scrunches her face up against the guilt that crests inside.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his thumb smoothing away the lines in her forehead, and he steps away so that he can see her properly.

"I've still got those walls I told you about, Castle," she explains, her heart blackened with gunshot residue. She wants so badly to be deserving of him, to be the kind of partner - and yes, the kind of wife - that a man as wonderful as Castle should be with. "I'm not there yet."

He nods, his smile unwavering in the face of her grief, and he moves around behind her and sits down at her other side. His back to the counter, and he gives her a little shrug. "I know you're not where you want to be just yet. But I don't think that means we're not allowed to care about each other, Kate."

"Is that what you're doing?" she teases, nudging her elbow into the soft underbelly of him and he yelps, pouting at her. "Caring about me?"

"Isn't that what I've been doing since day one?" he fires right back, and she's astonished by his sudden bravery in this. "Beckett, I'm not asking you to wear the rings for real, to actually have a baby with me. I've got the knowledge that we're working towards something to tide me over, and if I get to cuddle with you now too? That's just a really, really great bonus."


	5. Chapter 5

**Arcadia**

* * *

After dinner they work in tandem to clean up, Kate at the sink rinsing dishes for her partner to load into the dishwasher. She feels good this evening, belly full with the meal Castle cooked for her, and as he moves around her in the kitchen she lets herself skim her fingers along his forearm, nudge her hip into his.

"You got my shirt wet," he huffs at her, inspecting the three dark fingerprints she's left at the cuff of his sleeve.

Mischief bubbles up inside her and Kate lifts her fingers away from the stream of the faucet and flicks them at him, sending droplets scattering across his face to cling to his eyelashes and collect at the very tip of his nose.

" _Beckett_ ," he gasps in mock outrage, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth hanging open. There's a beat of silence, the two of them watching one another, and then Castle cups his hands under the stream of water, collecting as much as he can in his palms.

Flinging his hands wide, he sends the water directly into her face and Kate splutters, growling low in her throat even as her mouth curves wide around a grin, peeling back to show all her teeth. Castle's hands twitch as if he's about to put them under the water again and Kate yelps, stumbling backwards away from him in the kitchen.

"Payback is only fair," he says insistently, and Kate turns away from him and jogs around the island, glancing back over her shoulder to see him advancing towards her. He moves slowly, with calculation, and the sinewy muscles of his shoulders hum as they come awake.

He lunges, and then his arms are around her and he brings her body back against his. Her hips nestle in the cradle of his pelvis, his mouth opens against the thud of her pulse in her neck, and her laughter cuts out on a strangled noise of yearning. Immediately, Castle freezes and drops his arms from around her, takes a handful of stumbling steps backwards.

"Sorry, Beckett. I'm sorry."

"I started it," she offers, turning back around to face him and slipping her hands into the pockets of her pants, her shoulders coming up in a shrug. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He nods, sheepish as a little boy, and Kate comes around the island between them and lays her palm against his chest, the curve of her pregnant stomach brushing Castle's abdomen. A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth and then his hands come up between them, brushing the hair back out of her face and skimming his thumb over her eyebrow, gathering the water droplets that still cling there. "Didn't mean to soak you that much. I'm sorry."

"Payback is only fair," she says wryly, arching an eyebrow at him and he laughs, rakes a hand through the spill of his own hair.

"Right," he says, one hand still resting against her skull and his thumb circling at her temple. Reeling her in a little closer, his mouth comes to her forehead and he brushes a kiss there, the hot wash of breath against her skin sending a shiver clattering down her spine. "I'm gonna go get some writing done I think. If you don't mind?"

Kate turns her mouth down at the corners and shrugs at him, can't battle back her smile at the hesitation on his face. "Of course not. I'll give you some space then."

"You don't have to."

"Well, I'm gonna go find a towel. Dry off," she narrows her eyes at him, but she's still smiling. Still smitten with him, and it makes her feel juvenile and full up with joy all at once.

Kate heads for the laundry room and the stack of fresh towels on the shelf, plucks one from the top of the pile and scrubs it down her face, through her hair. Gathering the mass of curls over one shoulder, she drops the towel in the basket on top of the dryer and heads for the study.

It's early still, and she doesn't feel ready for sleep yet. If this were a normal day, and she were still living her normal life, she might sink into a hot bath or do some yoga, but it isn't, and she can't. Instead, she browses the shelves until something calls out to her and eases the book free from its place on the shelf, scanning the blurb.

Both arms wrapped around it to hold it to her chest, she pads back through to their bedroom and climbs in on her side, setting the book down on the nightstand for a second. "How's the writing going?"

"Hmm?" he says, head turning towards her even as his eyes remain firmly focused on the laptop screen. Kate curls up sideways against the headboard to watch him, waits for him to tug himself up out of the flow of words and come back to her. "Good."

"You're starting the new one already?" Kate asks, careful not to peek at the screen. If it was a year ago, two, she might have done. Might have sought out spoilers to make sure that he wasn't going to embarrass her in front of the whole world. Not anymore. She trusts him with Nikki, trusts him to take care of the character, so she can wait until she's got that first edition in her hands to find out what happens. " _Heat Rises_ only just came out. Don't you get to take a break?"

There's a beat of silence and then Castle huffs a breath, hitting the keyboard shortcut to save the document and closing the laptop, setting it down on the mattress between them. "I've got ideas, Beckett. I'm not just going to ignore them."

She's never been around him when he's writing before, never imagined that he could get so caught up in the world of his creation that he'd actually be annoyed with her for interrupting him. She knows the feeling all too well, how irritating it is to be unable to focus on your work because of a little voice needling away at your side, but something has been nagging at her since she read Castle's latest book, and she needs to know.

"Castle. . .you're not going to let Rook die, are you?" she asks, rubbing the sheets between the tips of her fingers. Her eyes stay focused on the work of her hands, so the only warning she receives is a choking noise of grief before her partner's arms come around her.

She winds up tucked up against the warmth of him, her head pillowed at his shoulder, and his mouth skims the pale strip of skin at her hairline. "I won't kill him. It'll be okay. Nikki won't lose him."

"Why did he have to get shot?" she asks, grief swamping her all over again the way it did when she first read the end of _Heat Rises_. Her dad brought her a copy of the novel when it was released and it sat on her nightstand at the cabin for days.

One afternoon, she came awake from a lovely dream in which Castle was at the cabin with her and the two of them went swimming together, their bodies slippery as eels, and she got as far as opening the front cover of the novel.

The dedication dropped her to her knees on the hardwood floor of her bedroom, breath coming in choking gasps, and she pressed her forehead to the edge of the mattress and finally mourned the death of her captain.

After that, she didn't dare open it again until she was back in the city, and then she devoured the whole thing in one sitting. The scalding water of her bath lapped at her clavicles, bubbles collecting in the hollows, and she let the rich flavour of her glass of wine chase the grief Castle's words filled her with.

"Because I couldn't save you. I didn't take that bullet for you. I failed as your partner," he says, and Kate tugs out of his grip and shifts onto her knees, sitting back on her heels.

Reaching for his hand, she traps it between both of hers and ducks her chin to find his eyes. "You didn't fail, Rick. I never wanted you to take a bullet for me. That would have hurt a whole lot more than actually getting shot."

"I wanted to keep you safe, and I couldn't," he says, his voice a little wet with anguish. "I couldn't, but I could keep Nikki safe. I could take that bullet for you on paper."

"Castle," her voice wavers, dangerously close to a wail, and she flings her arms around his neck. One hand sifts through the fine baby hairs at his nape, the other tracing the shell of his ear, and he buries his face at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.

Warmth pools against her skin, salt slick, and she holds him until his breathing levels out. After a handful of minutes he lifts his head and Kate swipes her thumbs over his cheeks, cups his face in her palms. His eyes close, lashes clinging together, and the flush of embarrassment blooms in his cheeks. "Sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to. . .to cry on you."

"You should have seen me when I read the end of the book," she chuckles, rolling her eyes at her own self. "It wasn't pretty. But Castle, I could never resent you for even a second. You _tried_ to save me, you tackled me, and that's more than I ever would have asked of you."

"I'm kind of glad you don't remember it," he says, lacing his fingers through hers so that their palms kiss. "The noise of your body hitting the ground, everybody screaming, the blood. If I had a choice, if I could forget it, I think I would too."

Teeth sinking into her lower lip, Kate nods and squeezes his fingers, the scar at her chest pulling tight. She's thought about it, lain awake night after night reliving the crack of the gunshot and the scalding path of the bullet through her chest, but she wouldn't give up the memory.

Castle's hands cradling her body, his voice low and urgent as he begged her to stay. Told her he loved her. Her memories of the terror and the pain, awful as they are to carry with her like an albatross around her neck, are worth it if she gets to also have the memory of how much her partner cares about her.

"I'm glad you were there, Castle. If I had died that day, I'm so grateful that you were there to comfort me through it."

"If you'd died," he starts, turning his face away from her, and his face is waxy and pallid even in the warmth of the lamplight. It throws their shadows into sharp relief against the wall, every movement of their bodies mimicked and magnified, and Kate snuggles in a little closer until her body fills the space between them. "Kate. If you'd-"

Laying her hand at her partner's thigh, Kate lets her nose nudge against the warm skin of his throat and his arm tightens around her shoulders, fingers stroking at the inside of her bicep. "I'm right here," she soothes, her free hand settling at the curve of her stomach. "I didn't die, Castle. I didn't leave you."

"I know. I don't know what's gotten into me."

"It was my fault. Bringing up _Heat Rises_. Was it like this for you when you were writing it?" she asks, letting her body sag against her partner's side.

Castle chokes out a sardonic breath of laughter and drops his head back against the wall, jerking violently when Kate brings a hand up to touch his face. Her fingers trace the edge of his jaw, the shadowy regrowth there, and he torques his neck at an awkward angle to glance down at her.

"It wasn't pretty. Alexis and my mother stayed out of my way, for the most part. There was. . .some anger I needed to work through."

"I'll bet," she teases, nudging her elbow into Castle's side. All too well, she remembers the way he set his jaw against her at that book signing, walked right by her as if the fact that he'd stemmed the flow of her lifeblood with his bare hands meant nothing.

"Yeah," he grumps, wrinkling his nose at her and Kate laughs, working her way out from under her partner's arm.

Handing him his laptop, Kate settles back on her own side and slides her legs under the covers, reaching for the book on her nightstand. Knees drawn up, she rests the paperback against them and thumbs it open, immediately falling into the world the author has created.

After five pages or so, she flicks her eyes to the side to look at her partner, finds him tapping away at his laptop's keyboard. Every so often a little huff escapes him and he stabs furiously at the backspace key, forehead creasing into a frown.

"Castle, I was thinking," she says, folding the book closed around two fingers to keep her place while they talk. He's still typing, the furious work of his fingers across the keys like rainfall, and she gives him another thirty seconds before she reaches out for his attention again. "Castle. Hey."

He hits the shortcut to save again, head turning towards her, but his eyes are still on the screen and his fingers start up their work again. They slow gradually as he wades back to her and he finally turns a smile towards her. "Hi."

"You with me?" Kate says, a wry little grin quirking at her mouth, and Castle saves his document again and closes the laptop, lays both hands flat on top of it.

"I'm with you. What's up?"

Shaking her head at him, Kate settles her hands on top of her bump and frowns, something like feral protective instinct surging in her gut. "The dead women were all killed at three month intervals, right? The last one only two weeks ago."

"Right," he agrees, his face slack with confusion as he waits for her to elaborate.

"So, even if we succeed, and I make myself a target, she might not try to kill me for another three months."

That makes him grin and he wriggles in the bed, joy filling him up and overflowing right out. "So we spend three months here, so what? I think we can pull it off. Don't tell me you're that desperate to get back to the bullpen. I always come away from the precinct smelling like a gym sock."

" _Castle_ ," she huffs, gesturing at her own pregnant stomach. "We _can't_ still be here in three months, unless you know a guy who can magic up a newborn for us so we don't blow our cover."

"Oh," he deflates, sagging back against the headboard. "Right. That's a problem."

Rolling her eyes at him, Kate pushes the covers off of her legs and climbs out of bed, one hand against the curve of her stomach and the other gesticulating wildly as she paces back and forth at the foot of the bed. "We have to get out of here by next week, Castle. I don't think we can keep it up for longer than that."

"Really? Is it that difficult for you to pretend to be married to me?" he grumbles, folding his arms across his chest as he watches her. Kate spins on her heel to throw a glare at him and he raises his hands, palms facing her in defeat. "Alright, okay, I'm _sorry_."

"It's not the marriage part that's hard," Kate says, sinking to sit heavily on the end of their bed. Castle untangles himself from the sheets and knee-walks down the mattress until he's right behind her, fingers coming to her shoulders and working into the knots that are forming there. Carrying the bump around all day is making her ache, and she rotates her head on her neck and groans at the lovely liquid warmth of his touch. "It's everything else."

Shifting around to sit beside her, Castle dangles his legs over the edge of the bed and drums his feet in a pleased little rhythm against the floor. "Which part is hard? We can work through it together."

"You're supposed to be a teacher. So for now, it's okay for you to be here because it's Christmas break. But what if we're still here in January? You'll have to start disappearing during the day. And then there's the baby that we don't have. The longer we have to keep it up, the more likely it is that our cover will be blown."

"We'll solve it before then," he says, and Kate lets herself tip sideways until her temple meets his shoulder. It's only been one full day of the charade, but she's already exhausted and a little sick with guilt, and the thought of having to stay here until February turns her stomach. "We've solved more challenging cases than this."

Kate nods, patting his knee before she tugs away from him again and draws one leg up underneath herself, facing her partner. "I just think we need to be more active. Try to actually figure out who the killer is, rather than waiting for them to come to us."

"You're right. We can figure out a plan of action. But in the morning, Kate. It's bedtime."

* * *

They're still in their pyjamas when the doorbell rings the next morning and Kate clutches her robe a little tighter around herself, slipping down from the barstool at the kitchen island to go answer it. Scrunching her toes in the giant fluffy socks she stole from Castle's drawer, Kate tugs open the front door to find Alice with Connor in her arms.

Darting a glance over her shoulder, Alice steps over the threshold and inside the house before Kate even gets a chance to invite her in, closing the door behind herself. "Hi Kate. I'm sorry it's so early. I just couldn't wait."

"Wait for what?" Kate asks, gesturing down the hallway towards the great room. Alice sinks down onto the couch and arranges Connor to sit on the length of her thighs, jiggling them to make him laugh. Settling into the armchair opposite, Kate leans forward as much as her stomach will allow and clasps her hands, capturing them between her knees. "What's going on?"

"I went to see Stephen Eddowes last night. Rachel's husband. We were really close friends," Alice says, burying her face against the crown of her son's head a moment. She takes a breath and lifts her head again to meet Kate's eyes. "They had three kids, Kate. Amy's five, Sophie's three and Matthew is one. They've been really struggling since Rachel died."

Leaning back in the chair, Kate rests her hands at the curve of her stomach, so grateful that she remembered to change into the fake bump as soon as she woke up this morning. "Alice, I'm so sorry to hear that. I can't imagine how her family must be suffering. But I don't really understand why that means you're here at seven thirty in the morning."

" _Because_ , Kate," Alice says fervently, making Connor startle and tip his head back to look at her. "Stephen told me that Rachel wasn't alone when she was setting up for the party. He and the kids ran to the store to get out of her hair and let her set up. And Helen Tate was with her. Helen was the last person to see her alive."

"Helen that lives next door to Rick and me?" Kate asks, eyes darting towards the far wall as if she can see right through into their neighbour's house.

Alice nods, one hand splayed at her son's round little belly to keep him close against her stomach. "Yes. Kate, Helen was part of the mothers' group for a time. While she was pregnant. But she lost her baby, and then she left. And since then she's been cold towards everyone who is still a part of the group."

"Oh, that's so awful," Kate says, her heart squeezing in grief for the poor woman next door. How terrible it must be, to want something so badly only to have it snatched cruelly away. "Poor Helen."

"Don't you think that sounds like motive?" Alice says urgently, leaning forward until she's practically tumbling off of the couch. Connor gurgles and reaches up to snag his mother's hair where it falls over her shoulder, stuffing his other fist in his mouth and gumming at it.

Sitting back in the easy chair, Kate crosses one leg over the other and tugs on her plaid pajama pants where they've gotten a little rucked up, pulling her robe tighter around herself. It earns her enough time to measure her voice and she frowns a little. "Motive?"

"Sorry," Alice laughs, one palm pressed to her cheek as if to hide the flush of self-consciousness. "I read a lot of mystery novels. I've kind of grown to fancy myself as something of a detective."

"Oh," Kate says flatly, panic welling up in her chest. Pressing one hand to her sternum, she draws a slow breath through her nose and musters a smile for Alice and her son. Connor beams widely, little arms reaching out for her and Kate grins at him. "So you think Helen's responsible for what happened to all those women? She seemed so friendly when I met her."

Her words to Castle a couple of years ago about everybody looking like a killer to her ring loud in her ears and Kate huffs, rakes a hand through her hair. It makes her wince; she'd been just about to get in the shower when the doorbell rang, and now she feels slimy with the need to wash her hair.

"I can't think of anyone else it could possibly be," Alice says, laying her squirming son down on the couch cushion next to her and wrapping one hand around his foot, his toes scrunching inside his onesie. "Do you think we should call the police?"

"Hey honey, what's going on?" her partner's voice calls out from the kitchen, and then Castle appears behind Alice, lifting both eyebrows at Kate.

She smiles for him - for their cover - and extends a hand; he comes around the couch to sit on the arm of her chair, his hand descending to rest at her shoulder. Glancing up at him a moment, Kate turns her smile back towards Alice and leans a little more heavily against Castle's side. "Alice, this is my husband, Rick. Rick, this is Alice from the mothers' group and her son Connor."

"Oh my god, you're Rick Castle," Alice breathes, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Her son must catch the shock that radiates off his mother because he goes still, wide eyes fixed on her as she stares at Kate and Castle.

"No, it's Rick Rodgers," Castle says smoothly, but Kate feels the tension ripple down his arm and his fingers tighten at her shoulder. "I get that a lot; we look pretty similar, I guess. And the name thing."

Shaking her head, Alice points a finger at Kate's partner, a smile transforming her whole face now. "No no no, I know it's you. I've been to your book signings, twice. I have every book you've ever written, I'm a huge fan. I can't believe you're here."

"Alice-" Kate starts, sharing a horrified glance with her partner before she turns back to her friend.

"Oh my god. Kate," Alice says, almost bouncing in her seat now with delight. "God, I'm such an idiot. You're Kate Beckett. I saw your spread in Cosmo. You're the inspiration for Nikki Heat."

Standing from the chair, Kate strides across the room and scoops up Connor, cradling him in her arms. He gurgles at her, little nonsense sounds of pleasure, and he reaches up to splay his palm against her cheek.

"Hi, little guy," Kate smiles down at the baby, bouncing him a little, and then she meets Alice's eyes and allows the urgency thrumming in her throat to transform her face. "Alice. You're right. I'm Detective Beckett, this is Rick Castle. We're not really married, and I'm not. . .I'm not really pregnant."

"You guys are undercover here?" Alice says, sagging back against the arm of the couch, and her face goes slack with shock.

Castle comes to join them at the couch then, sinking to his knees on the floor at Kate's feet. "I'm not sure if you know this, but Susie Milne was the cousin of the mayor of New York. He sent us here to find out the truth about his cousin's death, and those of Rachel, Polly and Mary-Anne. Undercover, so that we could gain the trust of the community."

"Wow," Alice breathes, reaching to take her son from Kate's arms and cradle him close against her chest. Connor twists in his mother's grip to smile at Kate, flirting with her, and Castle flutters his fingers at the baby in a little wave. "So there really is something going on?"

"We think so, yes," Kate reaches out to lay her hand against Alice's knee. "And we're going to do everything in our power to bring the killer to justice. But Alice, it's so important that you don't tell anyone about us. That we're not really married. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah," she nods slowly, as if she's wading up from a fog of confusion, her palm cradling the curve of Connor's skull when he nuzzles at her. "Yes, of course. Your secret's safe with me. And I'll- if there's anything I can do to help with the investigation, please let me know."

Castle gets to his feet then, a hand at the back of Kate's neck to keep her steady as he leans in to kiss her forehead. "I'm gonna make some more coffee. Give you two a minute to talk."

"I thought you said you guys aren't really married?" Alice says when Castle disappears into the kitchen and Kate's face flames.

A trembling breath of laughter escapes her and she stares at the bony rise of her knees through her pajama pants, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the situation. "We're not. We're just partners."

"Partners who kiss each other on the forehead?" Alice probes, nudging her foot into Kate's and smirking at her. "Kate, I was at group with you yesterday. I saw your face when you spoke about him, heard the things that you said. You may just be partners, you may not really be married, but you're in love with him."

" _Shush_ ," Kate blurts, darting a desperate glance over to the kitchen. "There's not even a wall. He'll hear you."

That makes Alice's eyebrows arch towards her hairline and she leans forwards a little, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He doesn't _know_?"

" _No_ , he doesn't know," Kate hisses, waving her hand to silence her friend. Connor grabs for her fingers and she lets him cling on, sharing a smile with the little one when he shows her his toothless gums, chest puffing with pride. "And you're not going to tell him."

"Okay, but I think you should," Alice says, making her legs bounce underneath her son again, and dusting a kiss to the dark cap of his hair. "Kate honey, I've been around you guys for all of ten minutes and I can see that he's smitten with you."

Chewing at her bottom lip, Kate rests her palm against the sole of Connor's foot to feel the work of his leg as he pushes against her hand. "I know he is. He told me, once. He just doesn't know that I heard him."

"You're keeping it a secret?" Alice probes, but before she gets a chance to continue Castle appears from the kitchen again, three mugs in his grip.

Setting one of them down on the end table, he hands one cup to Kate and keeps the other for himself, sinking to sit in the armchair. "Keeping what a secret?"

"The fact that I'm a cop," Kate lies smoothly, twisting a little on the couch to open up the conversation to her partner as well and smiling at him from over the rim of her coffee mug. "I was just going over our cover story with Alice so she can help keep us from blowing it."

"Oh," Castle says, sipping from his mug and crossing his legs, one ankle over the opposite knee. "Thank you so much for not telling everyone, Alice. Kate and I really appreciate it."

Their friend smiles easily, her face transforming with it until the resemblance to her son is unmistakeable, and she nods enthusiastically. "Honestly, I'm so excited to be a part of a real case. To help any way that I can. Oh, and Kate?"

"Yeah?"

"If you need any advice on what pregnancy is like, I went through it pretty recently and I can remember all of it in detail, can't I little guy?" she coos to her son, arms tightening around his belly and jiggling him until he shrieks with laughter.

"I'll bear that in mind," Kate smiles, finding it impossible to hold on to her panic while Connor's joy swells to fill the room.

Standing up from the couch, Alice props her son against her hip and arranges her scarf at her neck. "Well, we should be getting home. We need to get some breakfast for this little man and his daddy, don't we? If there's anything you guys need, you've got my cell phone number Kate. Call me."

"I will," she promises, standing as well and walking with her friend into the hallway. Connor peeks at her from over his mother's shoulder, batting his eyes and she smiles right back, pulling ridiculous faces to make him laugh. "Thank you so much, Alice."

"No problem," she says easily, opening the front door herself and stepping out onto the porch. Leaning back inside, she puts her mouth against Kate's ear and her words swell with amusement. "And we _will_ be talking more about that situation with Rick. Later."

Sagging against the doorframe to watch her friend make her way down the driveway, Kate presses a palm to her forehead and groans, her head thudding against the wood.

Adrenaline leaves her in waves and she closes the door, shaking her head in amusement at her partner when he pokes his head around the entrance to the great room and winces, offering her a smile. "Hi. Sorry. I had no idea she'd recognise me."

"How could you have known?" she shrugs, coming to meet him in the doorway and sliding her arms around his waist, her forehead against the hollow of his throat. "It's not your fault, Castle. And it worked out okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now, we've got backup."


	6. Chapter 6

**Arcadia**

* * *

"How did I not think of this?" Kate groans, on her knees in the walk in closet. One hand pressed to her forehead, she scans the rack of clothes again as if something might materialise to save her.

Yesterday, after Alice left, she and Castle had spent the morning coordinating over the phone with the precinct to run background checks on some of the people they've met here and adding the information to the whiteboard her partner finally attached to the wall.

He'd been quieter than she's come to expect, and several times she caught him staring off into the middle distance and had to touch her fingertips to his bicep to bring him back to her. When they went to bed together he had rolled over and put his back to her, turned out his lamp without a word, and Kate had lain on her back in the dark and listened to his breath evening out.

It was a little better this morning, she even earned herself a smile when she brought him coffee in bed, but he's still not quite with her. She doesn't want to push him for an explanation, trusts that if this is something he needs to work through _with_ her, he'll bring it up eventually, so she's doing her best to just act normal.

After they finished their breakfast this morning, Maggie stopped by to invite them to the Christmas party tonight, ask Kate to help her with some of the preparations this afternoon, and now here she is on the floor of the closet.

"Think of what?" Castle asks, poking his head around the door. At the sight of her on her knees he huffs a sigh and offers her a hand, brings her to her feet again. "What's wrong?"

"That there'd be Christmas festivities. I don't have anything to wear."

His forehead creases up into a little frown and he takes a step closer to her side of the closet, thumbing through the garments she's got hanging up there. Pants and sweaters and one blouse, but absolutely nothing she can wear to a party. "I see what you mean."

"This is a disaster," she groans, swiping her hands down her face, and then she turns a scowl towards him. "And I bet you brought a tuxedo, didn't you. I can't be on your arm wearing jeans and a knit sweater."

"Not a tuxedo," he laughs, reeling her in with an arm around her shoulders until she has no choice but to settle against the wall of his chest, head tucking neatly under his chin. "Just an ordinary suit. But Kate, you look great in anything."

A petulant little huff escapes her and she flushes, shifting in his grip to test how much slack she's got. If she might be able to break away from him and hide her face like a child. "What am I going to do? There's no time to go shopping for a dress."

"Not for you," he says quietly, shrugging at her when she tugs out of his embrace and turns to look at him. "You're going to help set up, right? So while you're gone, I'll go get you a dress, and I'll be back in time for the party starting."

Kate swallows back whatever strangled noise wants to come bursting free from her chest and closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "Castle-"

"Just trust me," he cuts in, one hand coming to rest at the ball of her shoulder. "I've bought a dress for you before, haven't I? I'm pretty sure you didn't hate it."

Oh god, that night with the ball and the mayor and the floor length gown that showed an obscene amount of skin. How she wanted him, how she burned when he brought her body in close to his and swayed with her on the dance floor in front of everyone.

"Alright," she agrees, because that's three nights in the same bed now and if she doesn't get to touch him properly soon, she might explode. Yes, the hesitation is her own stupid fault, and she knows that if she grabbed him right now and kissed him he wouldn't exactly object, but she's not brave enough.

A party, though. A party and dancing and a pretty dress he's picked out for her, and she just might get a little love-drunk, full up with liquid courage. If this case has shown her anything, it's that whatever it is she thinks she's working towards? They're already doing it. They're just denying themselves some of the best parts.

Tugging down the neckline of her sweater, she shows Castle the top of the maternity suit. "It's got these straps, see. So nothing strapless, or too low cut. And nothing too tight, or you might be able to see the seam where the bump attaches."

"Okay," he nods enthusiastically, tugging the collar of her sweater back up for her and arranging her hair over her shoulder. Even if he was a little sullen yesterday, the touching doesn't seem to have abated, and she feels weak with gratitude. "I got this. I'll get you the best dress you've ever seen."

"Don't spend too much money," she pokes a finger into his chest, frowning at him. The dress for the MADT ball was extravagant enough, and she doesn't want him flashing his platinum Amex card and making the salesgirls swoon over him.

Castle makes his eyebrows dance at her and then he takes a few stumbling steps backwards, away from Kate as she stalks towards him. His body smacks hard into the doorframe and he yelps, glancing over his shoulder to check where he's going before he tumbles out into the bedroom. "I'm not promising anything. What's the point of being rich if not to spoil your wife?"

"Not your wife," she warns, still advancing towards him and he half-jogs around to the other side of the bed, putting the mattress between them.

One knee planted against it, Kate rolls her shoulders and arches her back, uses his distraction with the proud flare of her breasts to her advantage as she drops to all fours and crawls slowly across the sheets to him. He groans, bites down on his fist. "Even fake pregnant, you're so damn hot."

"Oh," she breathes, all of the slow seduction fizzling out of her, and Kate sits back on her heels and stares at him. It takes her a second, but she gets it together and smirks slyly at him, cocking her head. "This does it for you, Castle?"

"Uh, I'm-" he splutters, a heady mix of embarrassment and arousal staining his cheeks, and he darts a glance over his shoulder as if he's expecting the cavalry to arrive at any moment and rescue him. "It's- okay. You win."

"Mm-hmm."

He stares at her for a beat longer and then he wanders through to the bathroom and leaves the door open, lets her watch in the mirror as he warms some product on his fingers and cards them through his hair, arranging it artfully. Once he's done he washes his hands and then he comes back through to the bedroom, dusting a kiss to her cheek as he passes.

"I better go. It might take a while to find the perfect dress for you, Mrs Rodgers."

"Good luck," she smiles, unfolding her legs from beneath herself and padding behind him as he moves first to the laundry room for a jacket and some shoes, and then to the front door.

She stays in the threshold to watch him go, her hip propped against the doorframe and one arm wrapped around her stomach in protection against the chill. It might snow tonight, at least according to the weather report, and girlish anticipation wells up in her chest.

Since Beckett became a cop, snow has been little more than a source of irritation, making it that much more difficult to take down criminals. It's been years since she's had the chance to just enjoy herself, bundle up warm and make a snowman or engage in a brutal battle armed only with snowballs.

When Castle pulls out of the driveway she waves at him, shaking her head in tender amusement at the beaming smile he shoots her way, and then Kate closes the door and wanders back into the house. It's another hour before she needs to go over to Maggie's house, so she heads for the closet to hunt for the wrap she could swear she packed. It's a sheer, black thing, so it should go well enough with whatever dress Castle picks out for her.

On her knees in front of the dresser, she tugs out each drawer, starting with the top one. Castle unpacked some of her clothes for her, so she figures he might have folded it away someplace. When she gets to the second drawer from the bottom it seems empty at first glance, but she sweeps her fingers inside and along the back just to make sure.

Her fingertips brush against something soft and warm and she closes them around whatever it is, tugs it out into the light. A gasp stumbles up out of her throat and one hand flies up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. It's a onesie, and Kate spreads it out across her thighs to see it properly.

It's plain white, a blue cartoon elephant peeking around one side of the fabric, but it seems well loved. A little worn, a little faded, and if she had to guess she'd say that this was Alexis' once upon a time. Thinking of Castle's daughter ever being tiny enough to fit into it makes her heart squeeze, and then she can't help but imagine her partner with his tiny girl in his arms, snug against the wall of his chest.

Kate folds the onesie carefully and sets it to one side, alarmed by the intensity of the yearning that overtakes her. Castle is an amazing father, clearly loves every moment of raising his daughter, and she wants to share it with him.

The image in her mind swims a little, rippling, and then the baby against Castle's chest has dark hair, huge blue eyes that stare up at his daddy in wonder.

A breath sucked through her teeth stems the ridiculous emotion that threatens to spill over and Kate tugs open the bottom drawer of the dresser, finds her wrap folded neatly inside. She takes it out and hangs it up instead, so that it doesn't get creased, and then she heads back for the bedroom with the onesie.

Kate lays it out on top of the sheets, to remind her to ask her partner about it when he comes home. She loves listening to him talk about his daughter, the way his whole body transforms with deep and boundless love for his little girl, and she aches with the need to hear the story of this little outfit.

* * *

"Hi," Kate grins when Maggie pulls open her front door, and the older woman beams and wipes her hands off against the apron at her waist. They're covered in flour, settling into the wrinkles of her skin, and Maggie holds them carefully away from Kate when she steps over the threshold and accepts the hug she offers. "You're cooking?"

"Baking," Maggie corrects, dropping her arms from around Kate's shoulders and ushering her further inside the entryway so that she can close the front door. "I'm making gingerbread cookies for the party, dear."

Shucking her way out of her coat and scarf, Kate lets Maggie take them from her and rests her hands at the curve of her stomach, humming in pleasure at the warmth of Maggie's home and the wonderful smell curling towards them from the kitchen.

Maggie ducks into the study to drape Kate's things over a chair there, coming back with a smile for her. "It's terribly cold today, dear. I hope you're keeping nice and warm."

"I'm just fine. And so's the little one," she says, stroking a hand over the curve of her stomach. If she closes her eyes, she can imagine the little flutter of life in her belly, how staggering it must be to have an actual person growing inside you.

"I'm glad to hear it," Maggie smiles, reaching out to squeeze Kate's free hand in both of hers. After a moment that stretches just a beat too long for Kate's comfort she lets her go again, suddenly seeming a little flustered. "I don't want to work you too hard. If you're too tired, if something's too much of a strain, just let me know. Let's keep that little one safe and happy."

It startles her, to have a stranger care so fiercely, and Kate manages a nod and a small smile. "Thank you, Maggie. Now, what can I do to help?"

"Well, when these are done I'll need to load all of the food into the car to take it over to the centre, and then we'll need to set up the decorations and the music in the main hall. I really just needed an extra pair of hands."

Kate nods and follows Maggie down the hall and into the kitchen, her mouth dropping open at the sight of tray after tray of baked goods and hors d'oeuvres arranged neatly to cover almost every square inch of counter space. "Wow. This is amazing. You did this all yourself?"

"I did," Maggie says, pleasure imbuing her voice, and she turns a smile over her shoulder. Pride shaves years off of her so that just for a moment, Kate can imagine exactly what she must have been like as a newlywed. Excited to keep a home, to care for her husband, and Kate just bets that Maggie is the type of woman to have dinner on the table at six thirty on the dot every night.

"I thought the women from the mothers' group were going to take charge of the food?" Kate hedges, remembering the chatter of Cathy and Laurel as they planned party food a few days ago.

Leaning against the one free section of countertop to watch Maggie mix ingredients in a bowl, Kate catches the shadow that passes over her face at that, a little tick in her jaw as if she's clenching her teeth, and she doesn't quite manage to look at Kate. She's stirring by hand, instead of using an electric mixer, and her whisk works with renewed vigour through the mixture of flour and ginger and cinnamon.

"They try to. Every year, they try to take over, decide that they're going to be in charge of the party. But my husband is the president of the Homeowner's Association. It's _my_ job to run social gatherings, not theirs. So I always have everything ready before they get a chance to push their way in."

The startling purple pulse of a vein in Maggie's forehead alarms Kate and she takes a step closer, lays a hand at the older woman's bicep to try and calm her again. Maggie's breath comes in little snorts, rage frothing over, and Kate tries to project as much tranquility as she can manage. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not your fault, dear," Maggie says, collecting herself so that the flush of anger sloughs off her in waves and her smile stretches wide again, the perfect hostess once more. "It's just a little irritating. It makes me feel quite useless."

"Well, I don't think that's true at all," Kate says, dropping her hand from Maggie's arm to give her the space to resume her baking. There was a startling hum of strength beneath the lilac cardigan, biceps firmer than Kate would have expected, and she wonders if maybe she should replace her workout routine with baking. "The women at the group had nothing but kind words to say about you. They all told me that if I needed anything, you and Bill would be the first ones to help."

Maggie mixes the rest of the ingredients into the bowl and takes the dough out, setting it on the counter to roll out into a flat sheet, and then she gestures to Kate's left. "Be a dear and pass me those cookie cutters? Thank you. I know that they mean well, those women, but they're a little too enthusiastic for my taste."

"Have you ever been a part of the group?" Kate asks, watching Maggie cut little shapes out of the sheet of dough. Each one misses the hand of the next by scant millimetres, so that the negative space when she lifts the cookies free looks like the paper chains of little men that Kate and her friends used to make in kindergarten. "I guess what I mean is, do you and Bill have kids?"

"We have a son," she says slowly, setting the cutter down on the countertop, and her hands tremble. "David. We- he's no longer with us. He died when he was thirty two."

Guilt rises like bile in her throat and Kate reaches for Maggie's hands, clutches them in both of hers. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"I don't get to talk about him," Maggie says, hot tears sliding down her cheeks now, diving from the precipice of her jaw. She takes her hands back from Kate's grip but makes no move to wipe them away, shifting back from the counter so that they don't splash onto the cookies, and her face twists in silent grief. "Bill finds it too painful. It was like losing him all over again. Bill took all the pictures down, every reminder."

"That's terrible," Kate says gently, plucking a tissue from the embroidery-covered box on the shelf next to her head and offering it to Maggie. She dabs gracefully at her cheeks, managing a wet smile of gratitude for Kate, and then she clears her throat and once again sheds the skin of emotion as easily as a snake.

Turning back to the trays of neatly laid out gingerbread men, she slides them into the oven and closes the door, setting the timer for eight minutes. "I used to be a part of the group when David was small, yes. But those of us whose children are grown aren't really welcome. Well, but you don't need to worry about that, now do you?"

Maggie gestures to the curve of Kate's pregnant stomach and Beckett smiles, settles a hand there. It's becoming something of a habit now, and she hopes that once she goes back to the precinct she won't end up with her hand falling through empty air in search of her nonexistent child. "Not for a long while yet."

"Alright, dear, well if you would, let's start loading these trays into the car while the last batch of cookies bakes."

* * *

By the time she makes it home, the claws of exhaustion dig into Kate's muscles, stripping sinew away from bone, and she just wants to sink into a hot bath and doze for a while.

"Hey, I'm back," she calls out, shedding her coat and hanging it from the end of the bannister. Rotating her head on her neck, Kate rests a hand to her forehead and waits for the lodestone of her partner's voice. It takes her calling his name again, but eventually she catches his attention.

"Hi," he calls to her from the study and she steps inside, finds him at the desk with his laptop. He's got a word document pulled up, but his fingers are dormant at the keys and she moves to stand behind his chair and lay a hand at his shoulder.

"You succeed in your mission?" she asks, stepping away from him a moment to twist the cord and slat the blinds closed against the night that presses up against the window, stop the whole world from peering in at them.

Her partner tips sideways in his chair when she comes back to him, head resting against her stomach and he wrinkles his face in disgust, squinting up at her. "That's weird. I thought it would be squishier."

"The bump?" she laughs, sifting a hand through his hair even though it'll disrupt his careful styling and now her fingers feel a little crunchy with the residue of whatever product he used this morning. "Yeah, freaked me out when I first felt it too. And it feels like real skin."

Tugging her shirt up, Kate lets him touch her fake stomach and she can't help her bubble of laughter at the awe on his face, the joyful smile he turns up to her. "Wow."

"You know there's not actually a baby in there, right?" she teases, nudging her elbow into his temple and he scowls, his bottom lip swelling into a pout.

"Yes, I _know_. But I can still be amazed at the concept. Oh, and yes, I got you a dress."

Kate bounces on her feet and reaches for his hand to tug him up out of his chair, linking her arm with his and practically dragging him towards their bedroom. It's so far away from the first dress he bought for her, the gritty noise of frustration and the damp line of the towel around her chest.

"You got another Cinderella line for me?" she teases, her body insistent at his back so that her bump brushes the low down curve of his spine.

Next to the bed, Castle wheels around to face her and his hands come to her biceps. A dreamy smile takes hold of his entire face and he gazes down at her, his body close enough that she can feel the ripple of his breath at the crown of her head.

"I'm all aglow," he hums the tune, and Kate tips forward to knock her head against his chest, rolling her eyes as if that can negate the smile that arcs wide at her mouth. As if it matters, when he can't see either with her face buried against the fabric of his shirt like this.

She remembers the rest of that song all too well, and for a moment she wants to lace her arms around his neck and let him whisk her around the ballroom, gown flowing around her ankles.

Well. Maybe tonight.

"Can I see it?"

"In a minute," he says, stepping back from her and reaching behind himself. His hands come back between them, the onesie in his grip now, and he arches an eyebrow. "First, let's talk about what you got up too after I left this morning. Went rummaging through the drawers, did you?"

Kate narrows her eyes at him and drops to sit on the end of their bed, her arms suddenly feeling strangely detached from the rest of her after the gruelling work to set up for the party this afternoon. Maggie wouldn't let her do much, concerned about her over-exerting herself, but she did enough that her shoulders are grumbling their irritation now.

"I was looking for my wrap and I found it by accident. I wasn't purposefully being nosy."

"Hey, it's not a problem," he shrugs, coming to sit beside her and laying the onesie out along his thigh. "What's mine is yours, right?"

That makes her laugh and she shakes her head at him, reaching out to rub her fingers down the soft fabric of the onesie. "Did this used to belong to a certain redheaded little girl?"

"She wore this to come home from the hospital," he beams, little lines running like tributaries at the corners of his eyes as they scrunch up. "It was the first thing I bought. The day Meredith told me she was pregnant, I went out and there it was in a store window, and I couldn't help myself."

"You're a good dad, Castle," Kate says quietly, shifting a little closer to him until their arms brush.

Her partner twists a little to smile at her, but there's a little twinge of melancholy to it now, the corners of his mouth quirking down just a little. "I wasn't always. Not while she was pregnant. There were days when I was absolutely certain that I couldn't do it, that I was going to ruin my child's life."

"Well you were wrong," she says insistently, sitting up a little straighter and finding his eyes, holding his gaze to let him see her fierce belief in him. "You couldn't have been a better father to Alexis."

"Every time I panicked, every time I got mired down in doubt, I would go get that onesie from the little gift bag in the closet. Because it reminded me that my first, gut reaction to this baby was joy. That I would love them no matter what, and according to my mother that's what a child needs the most."

Kate takes the onesie from him and lays it over her palm, tracing the outline of the little elephant with the tip of her finger. "Your mother is a very smart woman. And you, Castle, are an amazing man."

"Thanks," he says, the sincerity of her compliment making him squirm a bit, and he takes the onesie back from her and holds it against his chest. "I'm not really sure why I brought it with me. For the cover I guess? I don't know of any new parents who get to this far along in the pregnancy without having bought anything for the baby."

"Oh. I'm glad at least one of us knows what they're doing."

Castle laughs at that, bumping his shoulder against hers and stitching his mouth into a seam, eyebrows furrowing. "You might not know what you're doing in terms of having a baby, but you're the one who knows how to work people. How to extract information from them. You learn anything from Maggie today?"

"It's just because you haven't had a chance to talk to many people yet," Kate says insistently. "I'm sure that at the party tonight you'll learn a lot. You're better with people than I am."

"That's so not true. You're great with people, Beckett. Yes, maybe I'm a little more comfortable in a wider variety of social settings than you, but you're better at one-on-one stuff. You're better at encouraging people to feel truly at ease around you, to open up."

The compliment has a ridiculous smile curving at her mouth and she ducks her head, a little uncomfortable under the glow of how amazing he thinks she is. "Thanks. I guess we're best when we're working together. Oh, and Maggie. Wow."

"Was it bad?" he sits up a little straighter, concern like a rod through his spine, and she can't help her little bubbling noise of amusement. As if she wouldn't have told him right away if something awful had happened to her at Maggie's home.

"I asked her if she and Bill have any kids, and she told me that they had a son, David, who died when he was thirty two."

"Oh, that's terrible," Castle breathes, his natural compassion taking over him so that his whole body sags in empathy. "Those poor people. I can't imagine."

Settling her head against her partner's shoulder again, Kate is hit all over again by how gutting it was to bear witness to Maggie's pain, how her heart cried out in a sisterhood of grief. "She cried, Castle. Pretty much the moment she said his name. She told me that Bill doesn't ever talk about their son, that he took down all of the pictures."

"People handle grief differently, I suppose," Castle says, his hand curving over the slate of her kneecap. "What did you do?"

"I gave her a tissue," Kate huffs, rolling her eyes at her own self. "I also discovered that she and the mothers' group have some contention. She feels like she should be in charge of organising things, because she's married to the president of the Homeowner's Association."

"I don't really blame her. I guess feeling useful takes her mind off the loss of her son."

"I think so. She seemed to be hurting so much, Castle. And she was so grateful that I was willing to listen to her," Kate says, sagging against her partner when his arm comes around her shoulders. "I thought that marriage was supposed to be about having somebody to lean on, but it seems like Bill isn't there for her at all."

Castle strokes her hair back out of her face, fingers working to soothe at her neck and shoulder, light touches that make her breath come in trembling sighs. "A real marriage, one of true love and commitment, is like that. But I think you and I have seen enough of the dark side to know that it's difficult to keep hold of the magic. To stop the bubble bursting."

"I still think it's possible," she says, remembering the night she crept into the kitchen for a glass of water and found her parents, holding each other and dancing slowly across the linoleum under the light of the microwave's green clock.

Her father's hands had touched Kate's mother like she was his most precious thing, and Johanna's smile had been rich with peace when she gazed up at him.

Her entire life, Kate has been holding her relationships to that standard. She saw them fight, of course; her parents were lawyers and both so stubborn that their quarrels could go on for days. But she also saw her mother run outside after her father to make sure he didn't forget to take an umbrella with him, saw her father come home with flowers from the market every Sunday that they kept on the dresser in their room.

"Of course it's possible," Castle says easily, a kiss landing at her temple. "As long as both people are willing to work at it."

Well, and isn't that what she's been doing since she came back to the city? Working to better herself, so that she can be the kind of person who faces her issues head on instead of cowering away like a wounded animal with her paw caught in a trap.

"Now," Castle says, jostling her until she cracks around a smile. "Let's not get maudlin about other people's marital issues, come on. We've got a party tonight, remember?"

"Yeah," she grins, drumming her feet against the carpet in childish joy. "Come on, Castle. Let me see my dress."


	7. Chapter 7

**Arcadia**

* * *

Kate banishes her partner while she gets ready for the party, closing the bedroom door on his sputtering, the slack disbelief on his face. She can hear him grumbling as he heads away from their room and she shakes her head, tenderness welling up in her stomach.

The box with her dress inside is on the end of their bed, calling out to her with its crisp white cardboard and extravagant bow, and she wants to be alone with it. Have the space to hide her disappointment, though she doubts that will be necessary. And, well, she's looking forward to his face when he sees her all dolled up in the dress he picked out, doesn't want to spoil it until he can get the full effect.

One tug on the end of the bow and the whole thing unravels; she pulls the lid off, anticipation making her fingers quick and a little clumsy. Kate peels back the layers of tissue paper until she gets to the dress itself, and she skims the tips of her fingers over the fabric. Pulling it free, she holds it up by the shoulders and gasps, astonished by the simplicity of it.

After what Castle chose for her last time, she was expecting something plunging and dramatic, maybe floor length with a slit in the skirt that reveals the entire length of one leg. Instead, the dress is stunning because it's so not what she expected of him.

The fabric of the dress itself is strapless, but the neckline comes up high enough to cover the ugly padded bra attached to the maternity suit, and the lace overlay with its half-length sleeves should cover the straps well enough.

Kate peels off her clothes and steps into the dress, twisting to catch hold of the zipper and draw it up to the nape of her neck. The dress falls to her knees, a silk band underneath her bust that accentuates the curve of the baby bump and she turns to admire herself from a different angle. She never would have chosen black for a Christmas party, but the delicate pattern of the lace manages to make the dress seem festive in a graceful, understated way.

When she packed to come here, she tossed a pair of heels in her suitcase at the last second, just in case she needed the boost they give her, and she pads barefoot into the closet to find them and slip them on. Kate drops into a crouch to run her fingers over the red velvet of the shoes, rummages through her jewellery box while she's here on the floor next to it.

A pair of pearl drop earrings sits nestled in the box and she pulls them out, rests them in her palm a moment while the wash of memory assaults her. Her grandmother died when Kate was twelve, had left the earrings as an heirloom for her granddaughter, and Kate has kept them safe ever since. She rarely gets a chance to wear them, and as she heads back into the bedroom to put them on in the mirror above the dresser, a frisson of melancholy ripples through her.

Her grandmother always teased Kate about getting married someday, having babies, and she and Johanna had rolled with laughter and clutched their stomachs at the surly twist to Kate's mouth, her fearsome insistence that she would never be caught dead in some frilly apron with a baby on her hip.

How she would laugh to see Kate now. Until Beckett met Castle, she never realised that she didn't have to sacrifice one thing in order to have another. That she can have marriage and children and also continue to make a difference at work, that he'll be with her no matter what.

Kate hurries through curling her hair and doing her makeup, suddenly full up with the need to see her partner. When she's finished she inspects herself in the full length mirror again and smiles, a preemptive flush in her cheeks just at the thought of Castle's face.

She finds him in the kitchen, pausing in the threshold to call his name, and he spins on his barstool to look at her. One leg falls heavily to the floor, his body tipping half out of the seat and he chokes on a silent noise, his jaw slack.

Stumbling towards her, he comes to a stop a few inches from her, as if she's something precious behind glass and he's got his nose pressed up against it. "Wow. Kate. Wow."

"You did good," she grins, twirling for him so that the skirt of the dress flares out around her waist. Girlish delight wells up inside and she closes the distance between them, lays her palms flat against his chest. "You need to go put your suit on."

"Give me a second," he gruffs at her, hands falling to her shoulders and skimming down to the curve of her waist, as if he doesn't know where to touch first. His fingers are clumsy with adolescence, his voice raw and scraping, and Kate takes pity on him and steps back a little, lets him breathe without her hair brushing his cheeks.

A little tremor ticks away in his jaw, the strain of not reaching out for her again, and for a moment Kate wants to wind her arms around his neck and suggest that they skip the party entirely. Then again, she's really looking forward to the chance to be on his arm, to dance with him and let the warm kiss of their bodies imbue her with courage.

"Go get dressed," she says softly, plucking a stray hair from his shirt and rubbing her fingers together to let it float to the ground. "I'll wait here."

He must hurry; she's hardly settled at the island with a glass of water when he's back, shrugging his shoulders inside his suit jacket and refusing to lift his eyes to meet hers. Kate comes to join him and straightens his lapel, her heels putting her at the perfect height to feel his breath skim her lips.

Oh. Right. She's very, very close to him right now. Kate takes a step back, stumbling just a little in her heels, and a bubble of nervous laughter escapes her. "I didn't realise the bump would throw my balance off so much."

"Don't worry," he says, sliding his arm smoothly through hers. "I won't let you fall."

Kate collects her wrap on the way past the bedroom, untangling herself from her partner to drape it over her shoulders, and when she comes back to him she reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together, their palms clasped.

It's the first time they've ever done this, walked hand in hand together, and she quickly realises that his fingers are too thick to accommodate hers, making her hand splay uncomfortably wide. She worms her way out of his grip, reaching for him again as the noise of protest dies in his throat and clasping their hands a little more loosely this time, so that there's room for their bodies to ebb and flow together without becoming separated.

Their house isn't too far from the community centre, close enough to walk, and as they round the end of the block suddenly people appear from all directions, swarming towards the building like ants drawn to something sweet.

"You ready for this?" Castle asks, squeezing her hand and she turns her head towards him and the easy smile he offers her.

Her own smile blooms in echo, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as if that can stop the steady arc of her grin, and she turns away again, her eyes scrunching closed for a moment. "I'm kind of excited. Is that bad? I know we're supposed to use this as an opportunity to observe the dynamic when everyone's together and try to spot anyone suspicious, but I'm looking forward to it."

"It's not bad, no," Castle shrugs, a boyish smirk quirking at one corner of his mouth, like he knows what he wants and he knows he's going to get it. "No shame in looking forward to dancing with your husband, Kate."

Laughter warms her belly against the frigid night air and she steps a little closer to him, uses his body as a shield against the bite of winter. When they make it to the steps that lead up to the front door of the building he takes his hand back, uses it instead to cup her elbow and help her up the stairs.

Inside, people gather in little clusters, drinks in hand, and bursts of laughter come at regular intervals. Kate reaches for her partner again, hooking her arm through his and leaning in close enough that her lips brush the shell of his ear, make him grunt. "Don't leave me, okay? We have to stick together if we're going to survive this with our cover intact."

"Never leave you," he says fiercely, puffing up with indignation just at the thought, and Kate knocks her temple against his and grins, so pleased with him tonight.

The sharp cut of his suit makes him seem taller, broader; he's the most handsome man in the room, and she feels a little woozy with pleasure at getting to be the one on his arm, the one he shares those secret smiles with.

"Wanna get a drink?" she murmurs to him, nodding her head towards the tables against the wall with rows of glasses and various bottles, a bowl of eggnog with a gigantic ladle resting on a dish beside it.

"Aren't you on duty?" he makes his eyebrows dance at her, grinning wide at the idea of breaking the rules and Kate rolls her eyes, swatting at his chest and leaving her hand resting there. Her fingertips flirt with the skin of his neck where it meets his collar and he shivers, turns dark eyes towards her.

She drops her hand, not meaning to tease him. It's cruel, when he has no idea that she hopes to make good on the promises her hands are making him once they get home tonight, and she doesn't want him to suffer through the evening.

"Not an alcohol drink. In case you've forgotten, I'm expecting our baby," she lifts an eyebrow at him, both hands settling at the curve of her stomach.

It seems to shake him out of whatever lust-dream he's slipped into and he covers her hand in his, thumb stroking her bump. "Sorry, little one. Daddy would never forget about you."

"Castle," she huffs, her face aching with the flush of yearning, and she rolls her eyes at him because she doesn't know what else to do. Anticipation for what's to come makes her feel like she's going to burst out of her skin and she shifts her weight, feels like a worm squirming around the hook of lust in her guts. "Can you save that for when we're actually mingling?"

"Right. Sorry."

"Thanks," she says, a wry smile tugging at her mouth, and she leads him over to the drinks table so he won't see it.

The touch of fingers to her upper arm makes her jerk and whirl around on the spot, her partner at her back and humming with protective instinct, but it's only Maggie. A string of pearls circles the delicate length of her neck, skimming her collar bones, and not for the first time Kate finds herself hoping she'll be able to age this gracefully.

"Maggie, hi. The party is wonderful, you did a fantastic job."

"I couldn't have done it without your help, dear. You look wonderful, Kate," Maggie smiles, extending a hand to Castle to shake. Kate's partner comes around to her side, the knuckles of his free hand grazing her hipbone, and he gives Maggie his book jacket smile. "Rick, you look quite dashing."

His other hand comes up, both of them cradling Maggie's slender fingers now, and it makes his hands look giant and clumsy, like rough paws. "Thank you very much, Maggie. I have to look my best so I'm not overshadowed by my lovely wife. Isn't she just stunning?"

"Pregnancy suits you, Kate," Maggie says, extracting her hand from Castle's enthusiastic grip and rotating her wrist a little, her bones delicate as a bird's. "Now, let's get you some of the non-alcoholic punch, shall we?"

* * *

The evening grows longer, dusk making way for velvet darkness that never quite manages to brush up against the windows. Kate and Maggie strung fairy lights artfully around the place earlier this afternoon and they twinkle merrily, keeping the shadows at bay for an evening.

Things get a little rowdy, in direct correlation to the number of people grazing at the eggnog bowl, and Castle somehow ends up with a party hat perched at a jaunty angle on his head, even though he's just as sober as she is. It makes her giggle every time she looks at him, and then he starts pulling ridiculous faces and doing an impression of Santa Claus that has her burying her face against his shoulder and choking on her gasps of laughter.

Alice pulls her aside when Castle goes to get her another drink, tugging her into a shadowy corner and clinging like a schoolgirl, sniggering in Kate's ear. "So. You tell him yet?"

"No," Kate scowls, pulling her arm away from her friend's grip. It sends her crashing into the wall, unable to balance, and Kate whistles a low note of amusement. " _Wow_. You're really drunk right now."

"Leave me alone," Alice pouts, righting herself with her whole body slumped against the wall now, palms flat against it. "This is my first night out since I got pregnant. Let me enjoy it."

Kate comes to lean against the wall at Alice's side and bumps her shoulder into her friend's, sharing a smile with her. "Of course. I'd never begrudge you your fun. Just as long as you can still keep a secret."

"Won't tell anybody. Promise," Alice slurs, laying her head against Kate's shoulder for a moment before she straightens up again. A beanpole of a man approaches them and wraps an arm around Alice's shoulders, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "Hi baby. This is Kate."

"Nice to meet you, Kate," the guy says, offering his hand for her to shake. "I'm Joel, Alice's husband."

Her mouth opens to respond and then Castle reappears beside her sans hat, passes her drink over to her. It frees up his hand and he wraps his arm around her, splays his fingers at her hip. Alice's husband introduces himself to Kate's partner and Castle gives him a genuine smile, his handshake firm and sincere.

Maybe when they go back to the city they'll remain friends, have Alice and Joel and Connor as their guests sometime. The thought of it, sharing a home with her partner and opening it to their friends, playing host, makes her mouth dry and she sips at her drink, eyes widening the moment it hits the back of her throat.

"Excuse us," Joel says, his arm sliding around his wife, and Alice leans heavily against his side. "We need to get home. We told the sitter we wouldn't be too late."

They make their goodbyes, and the moment Joel and Alice are out of earshot Kate whips around to face Castle and pokes a finger into his chest, her other hand raising her glass between them. "Castle. This is not the non-alcoholic punch."

"No, it's not," he shrugs, lifting his own glass to his mouth and peering at her from over the top of it. "But mine is. Don't worry, everyone will assume that the alcoholic glass was for me."

"I'm not supposed to drink. I'm on duty," she hisses, shifting closer to him even though they're still in the quiet corner Alice dragged her to and no one is likely to overhear. "And I'm _pregnant_."

Castle nudges his nose into her temple, his body shielding her from the throng of people on the dance floor now, and he skims her cheekbone with his fingertips and tucks her hair back behind her ear. "I want you to have a good time tonight."

"I am," she blurts, has to torque her neck at an awkward angle to meet his eyes because he's so close. "I don't need alcohol for that, Castle. Just good food and good company, and music."

"Speaking of," he says, taking the glass from her hand and setting them both down on the very end of the long trestle table that bows under the weight of all the food Maggie prepared, almost groaning audibly at the extra weight of their plastic cups. "Dance with me?"

He takes her hand and leads her over to the dance floor, the seething mass of people moving together under the control of a hive mind as the music takes hold of their strings and makes them jerk and sway. As they push their way into the middle of it all the song finishes and the next one starts, the tempo shifting dramatically. The crowd thins out a little as lovers gravitate towards one another, and Kate turns to face her partner and laces her arms around his neck, tilts her head.

"I love this song. Actually, I just love Ol' Blue Eyes."

"Really?" her partner murmurs, his arms around her waist to draw her body closer to his. "I wouldn't have guessed that about you."

Kate shifts closer and lays her head against his shoulder as Frank sings about letting your heart be light, their feet making little shuffling steps as they turn slowly. "There's just something soothing about it. My dad and I used to listen to his records for hours, drove my mom nuts."

He makes a little nose of acknowledgement, his lips forming a kiss against the crown of her head, and his arms tighten just a little. His body is so warm and good against her and Kate closes her eyes, her nose brushing his throat.

They've spent three nights in the same bed, and each time she's wanted to nuzzle in close to him and feel the rumble of his chest under her as he speaks, weaving stories for her to carry her into dreaming. She's never allowed it to happen, clenched her fists in the sheet and chewed on her lip until his breathing evened out, but tonight is different.

Castle's hands splay at her spine, drawing her closer, and her bump brushes against his stomach. He growls, a strangled noise of gutting frustration, and he buries his face against her hair. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm no longer a fan of the bump. I can't get you close enough."

"I'm right here," she murmurs, curving her hand around the back of his neck to sift through the fine baby hairs at his nape, trace the collar of his shirt. "I'm here, Rick."

The music changes and Kate peels her body away from his, puts a little bit of space between them. For a moment it's all she can do to stare at him, both of them struck by the sacrosanct peace of this time of year and the sea change in their relationship. Castle smiles at her eventually and a little burst of embarrassed laughter escapes her, making her duck her head to look at the nudge of her toes against his.

"Wanna dance some more?"

"I don't think we should," she says, wrinkling her nose at him. "We're supposed to be on the lookout for potential suspects, not staring into each other's eyes."

That makes him scowl and he grumps at her, clutching at her waist as if he's afraid she'll shift away from him. "I don't care about suspects."

"I thought you wanted to get justice for Susie?" she arches an eyebrow at him, stepping a little closer when a woman bumps up against her back.

"Not as much as I want you."

The breath escapes her in a great rush and she stares at him, her heart frantic as a caged bird in her chest. His palms come to her elbows as if he's worried she might crumple, and she lists into him because she really might.

It's not news, not exactly, but he's never said it that plainly. Not even that first case, when he was scruffy and boyish and infuriating, and she burned to push him down to the nearest flat surface and rock her hips against his.

"Sorry, Kate-" he starts, and she covers his mouth with her hand, can't bear to hear him take it back. Not now, when she's so close to having him the way she wants.

"Don't apologise. I- me too."

"God," he groans, tipping forward until his forehead meets hers, and the hot wash of breath over her cheek makes her shiver. "Why are we having this conversation in a crowded room? Can I take you home?"

As she moves to answer her nose brushes against his and she jerks away from him, feels the flush of yearning spread to her clavicles. "Not yet. We need to mingle some more. This is a valuable opportunity, I don't want to waste it because we're too busy gazing into each other's eyes."

"Okay," he laughs, and it shakes them both out of the suffocating fog of lust. His arm comes around her shoulders and he walks with her away from the dance floor and to a small scattering of chairs where some of the older couples are seated, chattering away.

Kate sinks to sit, leaning back in the chair with an exaggerated groan, and Castle raises his voice for the benefit of the people around them. "Can I get you another drink, honey?"

"No, I'm good. Just sit with me," she reaches for him, tugging on his hand until he sits beside her, draping his arm over the back of her chair. His fingertips find the nape of her neck and tap out a merry little dance there, stroking over her top vertebra as if he's collecting cobwebs.

One of the women from the mothers' group comes to sit in a chair opposite them and offers her hand to Castle for him to shake, holding on long enough that Kate curves a hand over her partner's knee.

"Hi, I'm Laurel. You must be Kate's husband, Rick, right?"

"A pleasure to meet you," he says smoothly, offering the woman a smile.

It doesn't rankle Kate the way it used to, because there's no lopsided tug to his mouth, his eyes never scrunch closed with joy, and she knows this is his publicity smile. The kind that's measured to withstand hours of signing books for fans.

"I feel like I know you already, Kate talked so much about you," Laurel enthuses, and Castle turns a glance towards her, mouth open with delight. "Your story is just so wonderfully romantic."

"I'm very lucky," he says, turning back to face Laurel, but his fingers at her neck resume their slow exploration of her skin, dipping down underneath the top of her dress now.

She tunes out a little bit, hearing her partner exchanging pleasantries with Laurel the way she used to hear voices when she held a seashell to her ear, and Kate presses her thighs together and tries to remind herself that they're supposed to be _working_.

Stop thinking about the giant bed they have to share tonight.

Kate's attention is snagged by the touch of Laurel's fingertips to her bare knee and she blinks, manages a smile for the woman. "I'm sorry. Daydreaming."

"You must be exhausted," Laurel says, the sympathy in her voice a little too syrupy, making Kate's teeth ache. "I remember when I was pregnant, especially the first time, I was just useless after seven pm."

"I'm alright. The festivities are keeping me alert," she assures Laurel, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back against Castle's arm, wishing their chairs were closer together so she could tuck herself in against the heat of his body.

Laurel's eyes widen and she leans forward in her chair, reaching for Kate's hand in both of hers. "I forgot to ask if you know what you're having?"

"A boy," she blurts, and in her peripheral vision she sees Castle's head whip around and he stares at her, open-mouthed.

"Oh, wonderful. I've had three boys, so I have boxes and boxes of hand-me-downs. If you'd like to, you can look through them and see if there's anything you'd like to have."

"That's very kind of you," Kate says, hedging around a definitive answer. She doesn't want to take handouts from this woman when she has no intention of actually using them, but somebody calls Laurel's name before she gets a chance to push Beckett on the issue and she excuses herself, scurrying across the room to gossip with another woman.

Kate fidgets in her seat, the weight of Castle's hand at her neck suddenly like Marley's chains. She didn't mean to do this, not here. She wanted to at least talk first, but his touch is hot and everywhere and she knows that if he backs her up against the door when they get home, she's not going to stop him.

"We're having a son?" he says, and Kate's eyes slam closed. One hand comes up and she pinches the bridge of her nose, a headache blooming behind her left eye socket.

"It's just what I imagined."

His hand moves away from her nape and he hooks his foot around the leg of her chair and drags it across the floor, making her yelp and cling on to the seat. There was only a few inches between them to start with, and now their chairs are pressed together and his arm wraps around her shoulders to draw her in against him.

"You're thinking about him? Our son. What he would be like."

"Yes," she breathes, resting her head against the ball of his shoulder so she doesn't have to meet his eyes for this. "I have been since I first put the suit on. Since I found that onesie."

She hears the catch of his breath and he brushes a kiss to her temple, stroking her hair back out of her face. "I always thought we'd have a daughter. Will you tell me about our son?"

"He's got my hair and your eyes," she says immediately, sees the image of their baby in Castle's arms as if it's a memory. "He's so beautiful, Rick. You. . .you'd tell him stories and he'd stare up at you as if he understands every word. And when he'd cry, you'd hold him against your chest and stand by the window in your office, let him stare down at the city, and it would always calm him."

"What about you?" he asks, voice thick with longing. "Where are you in this story?"

That makes her smile and she meets his eyes, reaching out to straighten his jacket where the weight of her head has crumpled it. "I'm right there. Right beside you, ready for when your arms get tired. And when I have to wake up in the middle of the night to feed him, you'll bring me slices of toast and read to both of us."

"Kate," he grits out, devastated by the vision she offers him. "Kate, I want it. I want that for us. Can we- do you maybe. . .want it too?"

" _Yes_ ," she breathes, reaching for his hand and holding it against her chest so that his palm settles over the bullet scar he still hasn't ever seen. "But I think we have to talk about some things first."

He nods, jaw set against her for just a moment. "Kate, yesterday, I heard you and Alice talking."

"You were listening in?" she chokes, the colour draining out of her face and she sags back against her chair, staring at him.

"No!" he blurts, scrabbling for her hand and clinging tight to it, his thumb tracing over the bumps of her knuckles. "But I was only in the kitchen, and it's open plan. I did try not to hear anything, I really did."

Her breath comes a little easier and she flips her hand in his so that their palms kiss; his is a little clammy, like a teenage boy on his first date, and her heart aches with tenderness for him. "Not your fault. How much did you hear?"

"That you know that I'm in- that you heard what I said. When you were shot."

"Castle, I-"

"No," he holds up his free hand to her and her mouth snaps closed. "I thought about it a lot, Kate, and I think I understand. Remember when I said that if I had the choice, I would forget what happened?"

She manages a nod, though her head feels disconnected and heavy, as if it might roll right off her shoulders. "Yes."

"Well then, it would be hypocritical of me to be angry at you for making that same choice. I doubt they're pleasant memories. The kind you'd want to hold on to."

"No, Rick," she gasps, darting a glance to the gaggle of people sitting not too far from them. There's enough space that she doubts they'll overhear, and they seem absorbed in their own conversations, but she drops her voice anyway and leans in closer. "It was. . .getting shot was awful. But you? Castle, I want to remember that until the day I die. How much you care about me, how you tried to get me to fight. I never wanted to leave you. I wanted to stay."

The scalding threat of tears presses at the backs of her eyes and she blinks heavily, turning her head away from him and sniffling. His hand comes to her back, splaying wide over the wing of her shoulder blade and he puts his mouth against her ear.

"Let's get out of here, Kate. Let me take you home."


	8. Chapter 8

**Arcadia**

* * *

They stumble through the front door together, Castle's arm tight around her shoulders so that they almost don't fit through the doorframe; the crack of his elbow against the wood makes him yelp and once they're safely inside he untangles himself from around her, rubbing at the joint.

"Ouch."

"You gonna be okay?" Kate hums, skimming her fingers over his shirt, and the heat of his skin flares from beneath the fabric. Shrugging her shoulders inside the warmth of his jacket she can't help but smile, feeling like a little girl playing dress-up in her parents' closet again. "Thank you for letting me wear this."

His hands come to her hips, sliding smoothly underneath the bottom of the suit jacket, and his fingertips trace the rough edge of the lace. "Of course. My job to keep you warm."

"You want a drink?" she offers, finds herself wanting to open a bottle of wine and drink it in bed together, giggly and foolish while nobody's watching, but her partner shakes his head.

"I don't want a drink. I want you, Kate. You've been killing me all night," he gruffs out, one hand coming up to let his knuckles skim the edge of her cheekbone and travel to her ear, tucking the spill of her hair back behind it. "Do you know how gorgeous you are?"

It only takes a half step to put her in his arms again, his body warm though the frigid night air clings to his clothes, and Kate winds her arms around his neck and tilts her head, pursing her lips just to watch him gulp. "Castle. Take me to bed."

His hands drop from her waist and he stumbles backwards, bumping up against the railing of the stairs and catching himself with the heavy thud of his hand against one of the steps. It's almost comical, the way his panicked eyes cast around them as if he's searching for inspiration, and his mouth flaps as if his jaw has come unhinged.

"I'm- it's- shouldn't we talk more?"

"What did you want to talk about?" she hums, advancing towards him, but suddenly the predatory fire in her veins feels all wrong and she reaches for his hand instead, tugging him back to his feet. "Rick, if you don't want-"

"I want you," he says immediately, turning his head half away from her and scraping a hand through his hair, palm rubbing down his face. " _God_ , don't you know how much I want you?"

Kate's hand comes to his bicep and she rubs his arm as if to soothe, stepping out of her heels. The arches of her feet screech in protest and she grunts, curling her toes against the flare of pain, but now she's at the right height to tuck herself up against him and lay her cheek to his shoulder.

"It's okay if you're not ready," she offers, sliding her arm around his back and tucking her fingers into the waistband at his opposite side to hold on. "I understand. It's kind of sudden."

"It's not sudden at all," he says, fingers coming to her chin to lift her head, let him see her face. "I've wanted you since the day we met. Been waiting for this all that time. I just feel like. . .that there's more I need to say."

Untangling herself from around him, Kate takes a step back and almost trips over her discarded shoes, clutching at him as he bands an arm around her waist to keep her on her feet. "Okay. Let's talk then, hmm? Come on."

Capturing his hand in hers, she leads him with her to the bedroom and drops heavily to the end of the bed, shifting backwards up the mattress as she watches him bend to untie his shoelaces and take off the shoes. He removes his cufflinks and sets them on top of the dresser, unfastening another button on his shirt before he comes around to his side and settles in on top of the mattress next to her.

They're both leaning against the headboard now and Kate draws one leg up, enjoying the slide of her bare foot over the cool sheets. "Okay. Go. Talk. Get it off your chest."

"Wow, Beckett," he huffs, turning to face her a little more, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. "How romantic of you."

"You said you wanted to talk," she scowls at him, her spine straightening, but his hand falls to her knee and his fingers tuck underneath in the hinge of her leg, making her sag back against the pillows.

She gives him a moment, watching the shift of his features as he works it through in his head, and when his throat works around a swallow she can't help but reach out for him, touch her fingers to his Adam's apple. It makes his eyes pop open and he captures her fingers in his, lifts them to his mouth to brush a kiss to the tip of each one.

The sleeves of his jacket fall down over her hands, and on the walk home she tucked herself up inside it and felt like a child again, the magic of being out at nighttime filling her up. She's not aiming for girlishness anymore, and Kate shrugs her way out of the jacket and hops out of bed for a second to drape it over a chair. It gives her partner some time to think, and when she comes back to sit beside him he reaches for her hand again.

"I don't want to do this if it's going to end when this case is over," he admits, holding onto her through the urge to tug away, and it passes as he rushes to explain. "I'm not saying that I'm doubting you, or how you feel - although you still haven't ever really told me - I just mean that I need you to be willing to work at this when we get back to the city. That it's not going to turn into some sort of vacation romance situation."

"Your concern is very sweet, Castle," she murmurs, freeing her hand from his grip to lay it against his cheek, thumb brushing underneath of his eye. "But you don't need to worry. I want this. I want you. I have for a really long time. That's why I didn't tell you that I remembered getting shot, because I wanted to put in the work first so that I could be more than who I am. Be better for you."

He gapes at her, still as the grave for a moment before he turns his head and opens his mouth against her palm, the little touch of his tongue making her gasp. "You don't need to be better. You're already everything I've ever wanted."

"I'm seeing a therapist," she says softly, relief washing through her when he doesn't pull away in disgust. It leaves her trembling and exhausted and she lets her head thud back against the wall behind her, her chest heaving against the neckline of her dress like a damsel, some Shakespearean heroine. "I didn't stop going after my psych eval, after I was cleared to go back to work. I've seen Dr Burke twice a week, every week, since the summer."

"And is it helping?" he asks, reaching for her hand and squeezing hard enough that her knuckles crunch together, her bones reed thin.

Drawing her legs up, Kate folds them underneath herself and sits up straight, hands in her lap as she picks at the raggedy edge of a cuticle. "I think so. He's helping me through a lot of things. Helping me to understand what it is I want."

"What do you want, Kate?" he folds his hands neatly together and rests them in his lap, because he knows better than to touch her when she's talking through something difficult. Because he's in love with her, and it makes her brave.

"I want to solve my mother's murder, that's still important to me. But it's not the most important thing anymore. My life is. She would never want me to throw it away. And I know that-" she huffs a breath of laughter and ducks her head, her cheeks warm. "That she'd be our biggest cheerleader. She'd want me to be with you."

His hands come to frame her face and she jolts, staring up at him. She's seen him look like this just once before, their breath clouding between them and adrenaline a living beast in her chest, and so when his mouth descends to hers she's ready for it.

Kate comes alive underneath him, her mouth open and seeking, and his tongue slicks past her lips, hands sliding into her hair to angle her head. Her own fingers clutch at him, one hand curled over the shell of his ear as the other fists in his hair and he grunts, teeth catching in her bottom lip.

"Oh," she gasps when he tears his mouth away from hers, staring at her as his breath comes in these little gasps against her cheek. "Have you- are we done talking?"

"Yes," he growls, his hand splaying almost the entire length of her thigh and he tugs, slides her leg right over her lap until she's straddling him. He clutches at her hips as she rocks against him, her mouth seeking his again to steal shallow, needy little kisses from his lips.

Castle's hands travel the notches of her vertebrae until he gets to the nape of her neck, one sliding to splay against her shoulder as the other works into her hair again. His nails scratch lightly at her scalp and she shudders, hips jerking violently against his.

She leans in, wanting to crush her chest to his, but the bump is huge and awkward between them and she breaks away from their kiss, rests her forehead against the slate of his cheekbone. "This isn't how I wanted this to happen."

"Kate, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Not you," she assures him, pulling back to frame his face in her hands. He's so adorably rumpled, lips swollen with her kisses, and she can't help but dart back in and touch her mouth to his. "The bump. I want to feel you, and the stupid suit is in the way. And I don't want the first time you see me undressed to be while I'm wearing this."

His hands come to settle at the curve of her fake stomach, thumbs stroking, and he arches his neck in search of her mouth, lips meeting hers in a bloom of a kiss. "I love the bump, Kate. I love the glimpse of what our future will be like. But you're right, it is kind of killing the mood."

"Yeah," she laughs, clinging to his ears to keep her balance because he can't quite seem to keep still underneath her, hips jerking up against hers in a rhythmless dance. "I'm gonna take it off. Don't look."

"That's not fair," he moans, his teeth catching at the lobe of her ear and tugging gently, tongue poking out to lave at her skin. "I want to undress you."

Palm pressed to her cheek, Kate falls against him and buries her face against his neck, real resentment for the suit welling up in her for the first time. "It'll ruin everything. It's so ugly, Castle. I don't want you to see it."

The only warning she gets is the lace of his arms tight around her middle and then he rolls them, stretches the length of her body out underneath his and nudges his way between her thighs. His kisses start slow, her bottom lip caught between his, and when she opens her mouth to him he tugs away, chuckles at her little whine of impatience.

He offers the same attention to her top lip, tongue darting out to touch the corner of her mouth and then finally, _finally_ , he opens his mouth to the insistence of her tongue. One hand travels the length of her leg and all the way up her side, settling at her breast, but the damn bra is so padded that she can't feel anything at all and she grunts, turns her head to the side.

"I want to take it off. Wait here."

"No," he gruffs, the awakening lust inside him threading his voice with something dark and raw. "Let me help."

Lifting her head from the pillow, Kate kisses him again because she's not sure that she's ever going to be able to stop, and it crumbles around the twin curves of their grins. "It's not sexy, Castle. I don't want- not for our first time."

"I think you're beautiful," he says, smoothing the hair back out of her face and leaving his palm against her cheek, darting in close to press a kiss to the end of her nose that startles her, makes her blink. "And so damn hot. And nothing could make me think otherwise. I really want to do this with you, Kate."

"Okay," she breathes, and his hand worms its way underneath her to splay at the curve of her spine and bring her upright with him. The momentum of their bodies leaves her half in his lap and when she shifts he growls, dropping his head to her shoulder and clutching at her hips.

He finds the zipper of her dress and tugs it down, helping her to extract her arms from the delicate lace of the half sleeves. The whole thing comes off easily then and she eases it down her legs, standing up from the bed to drape the dress over a chair.

Castle comes to stand beside her, hands at her shoulders to turn her around so that her back is to him, and he sweeps the spill of her hair over one shoulder. "How does this come off?"

"The bodysuit is stretchy," she hums, turning her head to see him. Kate peels the straps down her shoulders and frees her arms from them, the suit held up by one arm tight across her chest now. "Almost like a swimsuit. You just peel it off."

A hot kiss lands at the nape of her neck, his mouth travelling down along the top of her shoulder and his tongue darting out every so often, teeth grazing her skin. It makes her shudder and she moans, eyes slamming closed.

Her partner's hands grip the material of the suit under her arms and he tugs it down the length of her body, his mouth following the path of the fabric as he dusts a kiss to each of her vertebra. When the suit makes it past her hips it falls easily to the floor and she steps out of it, turning to face him in just her underwear.

"So beautiful," he breathes, eyes lingering at her chest a moment. One hand comes up between them and he settles his palm over the bullet scar between her breasts, the tips of his fingers just dipping into the hollow of her throat. "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes it pulls," she admits, covering his hand in hers and bringing her other up to curve at the back of his neck and tug him down to her, their kiss lazy and sweet. "I've still got a few weeks of physical therapy left. But it's not too bad anymore."

He nods, brushing a kiss to her forehead, and Kate reaches up between the press of their bodies to find the buttons of his shirt and free them one by one, her nails scratching lightly at the ever-widening triangle of skin she reveals.

Castle helps her to remove the rest of his clothes and then they're both in just their underwear and he crowds her, his body insistent against hers until the backs of her knees hit the mattress and his arm bands around her waist to lower her to the bed. He settles above her, and the first kiss of skin against skin when their chests meet makes her gasp, her arms around his neck to keep him close.

"I can't believe we're really doing this," he breathes, coming in to kiss her again, and Kate lets her hips rock mindlessly against his as he works at her, tongue and teeth and the skim of his hands over her bare skin.

Sweeping her thumbs over his cheeks, Kate bites at his bottom lip and then has to let him go again, her grin so wide that she can't hold on. "Me neither. But Castle? I'm so glad."

* * *

She wakes early, her body leaden and a pleasant ache between her legs that has her burying a smile against the shoulder of her still-sleeping partner. He's sacked out on his back, chest rising and falling evenly, and Kate carefully extracts herself from underneath his arm and tucks the sheets close around him, stooping to kiss the slack corner of his mouth.

The suit is still on the floor and she grimaces, gathering it up and heading to the walk in closet to find fresh underwear. She pulls the suit on over the top, still angry with it for hindering their first time, and then she finds fresh pajamas in the drawer and steps into those as well.

For a moment, melancholia clutches at her chest and she bows her head to breathe through it. If this were the kind of first morning she's always wanted for them, she'd be wearing nothing but his shirt from last night. No silicone stretch to her stomach, no frumpy maternity pajamas, and she can't wait to solve this damn case and go back to the city, have the kind of night with him she really wants.

Not that last night wasn't wonderful. Heat rushes in at her cheeks and she remembers all over again the feel of him, the way he could only gasp her name over and over as they rocked together. It just wasn't really them, felt jarring as if they were each wearing a persona a few degrees off from their real selves, and when he knotted their fingers and pressed her hand into the pillow the cold touch of his ring felt like something had been taken from them.

Kate has lingerie sets in her closet at home, dresses she wants to let him peel off her, and to have had their first time together be hindered by the maternity suit makes her heart ache.

She makes two mugs of coffee and brings them through to him, arrives back in the bedroom just in time to watch from the doorway as he struggles into awareness and half sits up, propping the weight of his body on one elbow.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he glances around the room and catches sight of her in the doorway. Immediately, his whole body comes alive and he beams at her, accepts the mug that she hands over to him and settles it carefully on his nightstand. "Good morning. I'm so glad you're here. I thought I might have been dreaming."

"Not dreaming," she smiles, setting her own mug down and climbing into bed with him. His hand comes to her cheek and he draws her in for a closed-mouth kiss, his nose nudging hers. His smile is so wide that she can't help but trace the curve of his lip with her thumb, a frisson of pleasure travelling through her when he presses a kiss to the pad of it. "Castle, last night was amazing."

" _Yeah_ ," he grunts, an arm snaking around her shoulders to slide her across the sheets until she's nestled close against him, tucked in tight. "You were- it was. . .just incredible, Kate. Please tell me that it wasn't a one time thing."

That makes her roll her eyes and she nudges her elbow into the soft underbelly of him, opening her mouth against his throat. "We waited almost three years for that, specifically because I wanted more than a one time thing."

"I just realised something," he breathes, staring at her and his face goes ashen. "I didn't tell you that I love you."

"Oh," she gasps, struggling out from under the fallen limb of his arm to look at him. His face is awash with horror and she slides one knee over his thighs, straddling him. Cupping his face in her palms, Kate leans in and touches her mouth to his again, lingers there for a long moment. "It's okay. I know you do."

His arms band around her and he squeezes tight, a burst of laughter escaping her when he sways a little, wriggling as if he's about to burst out of his skin with joy. "Good. Then I'm going to remind you of it every time I get the chance. I am so completely in love with you, Kate Beckett."

The desire to say it back bubbles in her chest, but Kate is still a little hesitant with her heart. She hasn't said those words in such a terribly long time, and it feels like some cataclysmic shift will occur if she lets them free now. Instead, she kisses him again and he sighs against her mouth, a happy little noise.

"I want to keep kissing you forever," he breathes against her lips and she whimpers, chasing his mouth for a deeper, more searching kiss. Not even caring about morning breath, because it already feels like they've been doing this forever and she finds she's not looking to preserve the illusion anymore.

"Castle," she says when his kisses grow deeper and the shift of his hips under her gets more purposeful, staying him with a palm against his chest. "I told Maggie I'd help her with the party clear up this morning. So as much as I'd love to stay and make out with you in bed for the rest of the day, I have to go."

He groans dramatically and clutches tighter at her, clinging really. "It's so unfair. I want you all to myself. Just for a day."

"I know," she soothes, fingertips stroking over the curve of his ear. "I don't want to go any more than you want me to. But how about a compromise? We put on the facade of a married couple, like we have been doing, and at night we do exactly what people in a healthy marriage do."

"Are you propositioning me?" he grins at her, arranging the ends of her hair against her shoulder and she blushes, ducking her head to escape his leer. Two fingers come to her chin and he lifts her face to him, darting in to steal a kiss from her. "Hey. It's not exactly a problem, Beckett. You can have me any time you like."

Kate slides off of his lap and climbs out of their bed, pushing her pajama sleeves up to her elbows and turning back to face him. "You know, you could always come too. Help clear up."

"Not a good idea," he laughs. "I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you. We'd make poor Maggie very uncomfortable."

"Right," she flushes, staring down at her toes. It's true, she knows it is, but the prospect of being apart from him this morning makes her ache and she lifts her eyes to his, full up with girlish hesitance. "Are you sure?"

Reaching for her, Castle snags her fingers and tugs her back over to the bed, an arm around her waist to scoop her up and drag her body right over his, settling her on the mattress at his other side. "You didn't even drink your coffee yet. You've got plenty of time to be lazy and make out with me before you need to go."

"Okay," she says, pleasure overflowing, and she tucks her legs back underneath the sheets and shifts closer to him, their arms brushing when she lifts her coffee cup to her mouth. "I'm so happy we're doing this."

"We're gonna be so great at this, Kate," he says, and she lets his confidence in this - in them - fill her up. He can't stop smiling, his grin peeking out from over the rim of his mug, and she finds herself beaming right back at him. "I can't wait to dive into life with you."

Nuzzling her nose against him, Kate sighs wistfully and rests her half empty mug in her lap, one hand still curved around it. "It's going to be weird. We'll have this honeymoon period, almost, where we're pretending to be married and we can spend all day together and we won't have to hide anything from anyone. And then we'll have to go back to the real world."

"Hey," he grumps at her, turning his head to steal a fast kiss from her mouth. "Nothing wrong with the real world. That's where I fell in love with you."

The ease with which he offers those words to her is a noose around her tongue and it's all she can do to bump her forehead against his shoulder, amused with him. "I just mean that we won't be able to hold hands or kiss at the precinct."

"So come home with me. Or I'll go with you," he shrugs, and it jostles her into sitting upright again. "There will be plenty of time outside of work for us to spend catching up."

"You're right," she nods, leaning in to touch her smile to his, and his hand slides around to cup her cheek and keep her in place as he works at her lips. He sets his mug down on the nightstand and takes hers from the slack curl of her fingers, puts it carefully out of the way next to its twin.

Arm banding around her, he eases them both down until he's flat on his back with her body on top of him, his grip tight so that she doesn't roll away. Kate props her forearms either side of his head and bites at his bottom lip, swallowing up his groan.

She gives herself a handful of minutes to explore him, mouth working at the frantic thud of his pulse in his neck and up, capturing the lobe of his ear. Her tongue laves over it and he growls low in his throat, wide palm sliding down to cup her ass.

It makes her hips rock hard against his and she gasps, rolling off him and flopping onto her back, throwing an arm over her face. "That's going to be a problem."

"What is?" he asks, tracing a feathery line up the inside of her bicep that makes her whimper and shift further away from him.

"I'm never going to be able to just kiss you goodbye. Every time, I'm gonna want to push you against the nearest hard surface."

Her partner somehow works his arm underneath her body and draws her in against him, smoothing the little wispy baby hairs back out of her face and dusting a kiss to her cheekbone. "So don't say goodbye, Kate."

"Castle," she huffs, drawing her toes up the length of his calf.

"Alright," he chuckles, nuzzling at the crease of her neck and she screws her eyes closed, tries not to pant. "But Kate, we've only had three rounds. It's going to take a lot more than that to get you out of my system."

"I don't want to be out of your system," she says petulantly, and he kisses the pout right off her mouth, his hand distracting her with its slow sweep up and down the curve of her waist.

His kiss is awe-filled, the touch of his hands against her like she's something sacrosanct, and when he pulls away for a moment he can only blink down at her, astonished to find her here with him. "You know what I mean. It might take a while, but we'll get a handle on it. I won't stop wanting you, but I'll figure out how to survive the day without getting to touch you."

Kate worms her way out from under his arm and climbs out of bed again, a startled gasp choking her when her partner follows right behind her and she has to turn her head away, cheeks flaming at his unashamed nakedness.

He fishes fresh boxers from the drawer and steps into them, coming to crowd her against the dresser and wind his arms around her again as he seeks her mouth. His kiss is urgent and drugging, his knuckles skimming the length of her spine and she groans, a leg coming up to hook around his.

"We've never done this standing up," he pants into her ear and she laughs, sifting her fingers through the hair at his nape.

"Yes we have. That time we were undercover," she reminds him, arching an eyebrow, and something feral rolls over his face at the memory.

Shaking his head to dispel it, he grins at her and darts in for another fast touch of their mouths. "Well, it's nice to kiss you without the fear that you might shoot me after."

"I really do have to go," she murmurs, pushing the spill of his hair back out of his face and touching her thumb to the little dip of his chin. "But I'll try not to be gone too long, okay? Be back by lunch."

"Miss you already," he says, but he does at least step back enough that she can move away from the dresser and head for the bathroom. Whipping back around, she points a finger at him and he startles, both hands up in the air next to his head. "What?"

"Don't you dare just sit and pine until I come back."

That makes him laugh and he comes for her again, framing her face in his hands and kissing the corner of her mouth. "I won't. As intoxicating as you were last night, I did manage to notice a few things at the party. I'll add them to the board while you're gone."

"Good," she says, and then she takes two steps backwards and closes the bathroom door in his face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Arcadia**

* * *

"You're home," her partner beams the moment Kate gets the front door closed behind herself, materialising in the entryway and coming to help her out of her coat. He drapes it over his arm and tugs on the ends of her scarf to reel her in close, kisses her hello. "I missed you. How was cleaning up?"

"An experience," she laughs, reaching down to unzip her boots and toe out of them. Kate leaves them dumped next to the stairs, even though one of them will probably trip over the shoes later, and hooks her arm through Castle's to bring him with her to the kitchen. "Maggie's like a drill sergeant when there's work to be done. I'm starving."

Castle settles her onto a barstool and props the weight of his body with a hand at the back of the chair as he comes in to kiss her properly, the fingertips of his other hand just flirting with her jaw. When he breaks away from her mouth his forehead rests against hers a moment and he smiles, eyes slipping closed.

"What would you like for lunch?"

"Whatever you're having," Kate shrugs, drumming her socked feet against the bar at the bottom of the stool and lifting her shoulders in delight, palms pressed together and captured between her knees. "By the way, what did you notice last night?"

That makes him stop cold and then he turns slowly back around to face her, a leer stretching across his mouth. Two predatory steps bring him right in front of her and he rests a hand at the column of her neck, thumb circling over the frantic hum of her pulse. "I noticed that you really, really like to be in charge."

"I meant at the party," she huffs, pushing on his chest, but it only makes him move behind the bar stool and wrap both arms around her, chin resting at her shoulder and his lips nuzzling at her neck. Hips rocking in the seat, Kate lets out a little whimper and immediately bites down hard at her bottom lip, sagging against him. "Castle."

"Right," he says, coming back around to look at her. "Well, I noticed that Helen and her husband weren't there. And that most of the women in the mothers' group only mingled with each other, except you and Alice and a couple of others. They seem pretty insular."

Kate slides her arms around his neck and draws him down to her for a slow and lazy kiss, her tongue working at the seam of his lips until he opens for her on a growl, fisting a hand in the material of her shirt low down where her hips flare out. Breaking away from his kiss, for a moment all she can do is smile up at him, a little awestruck to find him here with her.

"I'm really glad you noticed that. Because I didn't notice anything except you."

That makes him wriggle in pleasure and he untangles himself from around her, holds her in place with his hands at her cheeks while he darts in for another burst of a kiss before he steps away entirely and heads for the refrigerator. "Grilled cheese okay with you?"

"Sure," Kate says easily, gathering her hair into a rope and arranging it over one shoulder, twisting the very longest strands around her finger over and over. "Hey. As I was walking over to the community centre, I noticed that we're the only ones who don't have any Christmas decorations up."

"Ooh," Castle says, dropping the block of cheese to the counter and whipping around to face her. "Wanna go shopping later and get some?"

Pressing her palm to her cheek, Kate props her elbow at the countertop and watches the joy fizz through her partner's system, the little shimmy he does as he butters the slices of bread for their grilled sandwiches. "I think we're going to have to, to keep up the cover. But I'm not sure the department will comp you for it."

"Don't be ridiculous," he huffs at her, turning over his shoulder to see her for just a moment. "I wouldn't expect them to. Whatever we get, I'll just take it back to the loft once this case is done and add it to the rest of my decorations."

"You already have yours up, don't you?" Kate says, a ridiculous smile curving her mouth and bleeding into her words. She knows how much he loves the season - he darted out on their lunch break a couple of weeks ago and came back, face flushed, to proudly show her his new, ugly Christmas sweater - and Kate is trying to cling on to that to keep her own melancholy at bay.

Her partner drops the knife he was using to carve slices from the block of cheese and whips around to face her, horror tugging at his jaw. "Beckett. Christmas is only eleven days away. Please tell me you at least have some tinsel in your apartment?"

"Nope," Kate shakes her head, chewing at her bottom lip to keep the grin at bay when he gasps and clutches at his chest.

"A bauble?"

"Sorry," she shrugs, and then suddenly he's right in front of her and brushing the hair back out of her face, leaning in to steal a kiss from her.

His lips are so warm and soft, the mischief of youth tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he winds an arm around her waist and grunts when he can't quite draw her close enough, her bump pressing against his stomach. "You know, our first time was only last night. I can't believe you're already this pregnant."

"Castle," she scowls, cheeks flaming, and she dips her head only to meet his two fingers at her chin, lifting her face so he can smile down at her.

All of the teasing is wiped clean away and he touches his thumb to her eyebrow, kisses her forehead. "Sorry. Couldn't help it. But Kate, you can't do Christmas alone in your apartment with no decorations."

"I don't really _do_ Christmas at all," she admits, suddenly feeling so very small, and shock turns Castle to stone for just a moment. He comes around to sit heavily in the bar stool next to hers, and she spins in her seat until she's facing him and their knees nudge together. "Castle, when my mom died, we hadn't even taken our decorations down yet. And by the time my dad and I got around to it, it was as if we were putting Christmas away forever."

"Kate," he breathes, reaching for her hand, and his face transforms in a grief she never wanted him to shoulder.

Shifting forward in her seat, Kate tucks her fingers up inside the sleeve of his sweater where it's pushed up to his elbow, offering him a true smile as her fingertips flutter against the seam of his arm. "Rick, it's okay. I always take the Christmas shift at the precinct, so that I can keep watch over the families out there celebrating. That's my only real tradition."

"It kills me to think of you spending Christmas alone," he admits, scrabbling for a tighter hold on her, and for a moment the clutch of his fingers is so insistent she thinks he might just pull her right out of her seat and into his lap. Instead, he kisses her mouth, but the touch of his lips to hers is bitter with melancholy and she shudders, tugs back. "You know you're welcome at the loft, right? You don't have to, and if you're happy at the precinct then that's okay with me, but I'd be honoured to share the day with you."

"I'll think about it," she offers. Kate already told Gates that she wanted to take the Christmas shift, weeks ago now, and she's not even sure she'd be able to change that, but her partner looks so terribly dejected that she can't help but give him whatever she can.

Standing up from his stool again, Castle pauses to wrap his arms around her from the side and draw her in against his chest, his lips forming a kiss against the crown of her head. "I love you, Kate. I just want you to be okay."

"I'm great," she says fiercely, straightening in his arms and turning to look at him, palms at his cheeks. "Castle-" she ducks her head and sucks a breath through her teeth, draws courage up from someplace inside. "You make me happier than I ever knew I could be."

He stares at her for a moment, and then a little-boy smile curves at his mouth and he brings his shoulders up in something close to a shrug, his cheeks pinking. "Oh. Me too."

"Yeah?" she laughs, tilting her head.

It seems to shake him out of his daze and he sticks out his tongue at her, scrunching his face up. "Yes. You know, it's not really fair how you do that. Give a guy some warning."

"Sorry," she calls out after him as he scuttles away from her to fix their sandwiches and grill them, and even the breadth of his shoulders seems alight with joy. Kate watches him, her hands in fists and pressed together with her chin resting on them, elbows propped at the counter.

When he's done, he plates their sandwiches and comes back to her at the island, pressing a little kiss to the very tip of her nose as he moves past her. Kate swivels in her seat and watches her partner as he lifts his grilled cheese to his mouth to take a bite, the material of his sweater pulling tight around his biceps as he does.

His eyes close and he moans around his mouthful, a little string of cheese at the corner of his mouth that Kate reaches to wipe away, letting him lick it from her finger. He smiles, and then he nods his head towards her plate, nudges an elbow into her.

"Eat your sandwich, Beckett."

* * *

It's been such a long time since she's shopped for Christmas decorations, and in the car on the way to the store she'd been so afraid that it would bring back all of those awful memories, make her guts churn with grief. Castle's got her hand tight in his though, pointing out every ridiculous kitschy decoration and keeping a running tally of every elf they come across, and she's too busy laughing with him to let the hurt touch her.

"What do you think we should get?" he asks her, bringing them to a stop in front of the outdoor lights section and winding his arm around her waist instead. "What are we _allowed_ to get? The HOA has some serious rules about this, right?"

"I think we're just supposed to keep it subtle," she knocks her temple into Castle's shoulder, reaching for a box of white strip lights on a long string. "How about these for along the gutter?"

Castle takes the box from her, but he's scowling something fierce, and he makes a little grumpy noise as he puts the box in their cart. "So boring."

"I know," she soothes, lifting onto the tips of her toes to brush a kiss to his mouth, and not at all caring that they're surrounded by strangers as she winds an arm around his neck. "But we're supposed to be blending in."

"Are we only doing outside stuff?" he pouts at her, slipping a hand into the back pocket of her jeans and squeezing, making her gasp and rock her hips against him. He lets her go, a growl rumbling in his throat at the slow slide of her body down his, and he gazes forlornly at their mostly empty cart. "I wanna get a tree."

Shaking her head at him, Kate loops her arm through his and flutters the fingers of her free hand against her mouth. "We can get a tree if you'd like. I think we need to focus on outside, but we can put some things inside too."

" _Yess_ ," he hisses, pumping his fist in the air and she smiles like an idiot at him, her heart sticky with tenderness. Castle darts off down one of the aisles, grappling for her hand to bring her with him, and she lets herself get tugged along in his riptide as he gathers decorations for their home.

It takes him a while to choose the right tree for them, and then they have to go back inside and pick out the perfect lights while their tree is fed through the net machine and trussed up tight for them. Castle pays for all of it, waving a hand at her in dismissal when she offers to split the cost, and then she follows along behind, pushing the cart while her partner carries the tree.

There's something rugged about it, the smell of pine and the needles clinging to his sweater, and when they get to the car she can't help herself, has to abandon the cart to come in close and push a kiss to his mouth, sipping the bite of winter from his lips.

"Mm, Kate," he says against her mouth, propping the tree against the side of the car so that he's free to wind his arms around her. Castle draws her body in close, tongue slick in her mouth and his thigh nudging its way between hers, and she has to break away to pant against his neck. "God, I want you."

"Let's get this stuff in the car and get home," she says darkly, already plotting just how quickly she'll be able to get the damn suit off. Suddenly she yearns to be back in the city, wearing a too-expensive dress and letting her partner lift her to sit on top of the counter or a desk, letting him push her skirt up around her waist.

Cheeks flaming, she turns away from Castle and pops the trunk, starts loading the bags from their cart into the car while her partner snags the attention of somebody who works here to help him tie the tree to the roof. Once they're all set, Kate climbs into the passenger seat and presses her legs together, can't even bear to look at him for the drive home.

He sings along to the Christmas songs on the radio, his voice gravelly and going straight to her guts, and she lays her head back against the seat and closes her eyes, breathes slowly through the gaping maw of lust that opens in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers itch to reach for him and she balls them into tight fists, daring to peek at him.

Castle hasn't shaved in a few days and dark regrowth scatters its way along his jaw, makes her want to open her mouth to it, let her tongue paint a slick line. His hair flops messily over his forehead, his biceps so solid under his sweater, and she aches to have him on top of her.

When they make it back to the house they're quick to unload the car, dumping everything in the hallway, and Castle crowds at her back and hurries her towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind them and pushing her up against it.

"The suit," she wails, head rolling against the door and exposing her neck to the too-good touch of his mouth, his teeth grazing at the thump of her pulse. "Castle."

"I know," he grunts, pressing his forehead to the wood of the door and closing his eyes. "Take it off, Kate. Take everything off."

* * *

By the time they finally get around to putting the decorations out, dusk is already settling its cloak over the earth and Kate feels a little giddy, the frigid air filling up her lungs and making her seek out her partner again and again, coming back in close against the warmth of him.

"A little further to your left," she calls out, standing on the front lawn to guide Castle as he arranges the lights along the gutter. He's precarious, and her heart leaps in her chest each time his body sways, but he waves a hand in dismissal of her every time she urges him to be careful.

After their round against the bedroom door, she tangled her fingers with his and brought him into the shower with her, let him back her up against the slippery tile and have his way with her again, and now she's loose and a little bit love-drunk, keeps finding herself smiling so wide.

Footsteps coming up the drive startle her right out of her swooning and she turns to see Helen and Jeff making their way towards her, both of them bundled up against the cold. Helen lifts a gloved hand and flutters her fingers at Kate in greeting, and Beckett casts her eyes to her entirely distracted partner before she comes back to face the neighbours.

"Hi guys."

"Hey Kate," Jeff grins, pushing his hands down into the pockets of his coat. "We saw you guys were putting up your decorations and we figured we'd come and see if Rick needed any help with those lights."

The man in question appears at her side, his face flushed, and his palm settles at her back to keep her close beside him. "Hey guys. Some help would be fantastic, actually."

"Rick, why didn't you tell me?" she huffs, nudging her elbow into him. "I could have helped you."

"Don't want anything to happen to our son," he says, his voice a little gruff with the clutch of emotion. He kisses her cheek, and then Castle untangles himself from around her and squares his shoulders, clearing his throat. "Jeff, would you be willing to help me hang the lights? I'm trying to figure out how best to space the hooks, but everything keeps falling down."

"Sure," their neighbour nods, and the two men make their way back over to the ladder Castle had been balanced so precariously on.

Turning back to Helen, Kate offers the woman a smile and shrugs her shoulders inside her coat, her face starting to ache with the touch of winter's gnarled fingers. "How about we go inside and make everybody some hot chocolate? Get out of the cold."

Inside, Kate takes Helen's coat and hangs it on the bannister, walking with her into the kitchen and gesturing for her to sit while she busies herself fixing drinks for everyone. She and Castle picked up marshmallows at the grocery store and she hesitates before she pulls them from the cabinet, not sure if Helen and Jeff will be interested in the childish indulgence.

"So," Kate starts, turning to glance at Helen a moment before she refocuses her attention on the task at hand, mixing cocoa powder and granulated sugar together with a pinch of salt. "We missed you and Jeff at the party last night."

"Oh. That's not really our thing," Helen says, but her voice wavers a little. Kate does her the courtesy of not turning around, not bearing witness to her pain. Instead she pours a cup of milk in to the saucepan on the stovetop, adding the cocoa and sugar mixture and whisking until there aren't any lumps.

Alexis taught her to make hot chocolate this way, back when her apartment exploded. She had approached the girl, hoping to surprise Rick with something nice, show him how grateful she was that he had opened his home to her, and Castle's daughter had been eager to teach Kate their secret family recipe.

"It was a wonderful night," Kate says as she adds the rest of the milk to the saucepan and turns up the heat on the burner just a little, careful not to let the mixture boil. She doesn't want to push Helen too hard, but this woman is their only real suspect and Beckett doesn't have much of a choice but to try and subtly interrogate her.

Helen clears her throat and Kate darts a glance to her again, sees that she's pulled off her gloves and has them laying flat out at the countertop, smoothing them straight over and over again. "Kate, I'm sure those gossipy women in the mothers' group will have told you this already, but Jeff and I lost our baby. And now I just can't bear to be around them. I can't stand the pity."

"I'm so sorry, Helen," Kate says gently, removing the saucepan from the burner and adding half a bar of milk chocolate to the mixture. She stirs until it melts and then adds a splash of vanilla extract, already tasting the rich creaminess at the back of her throat. "That's awful."

"It is what it is," Helen says quietly, and Kate's heart shrinks in her chest, raw with empathy for this woman.

Kate divides up the hot chocolate mixture, pouring half into two mugs and the other half into a couple of flasks she discovered in the cabinet, adding marshmallows to all four. Screwing the lids onto the flasks, she passes Helen her mug of hot chocolate and squeezes her shoulder.

"Excuse me just a moment, let me take these out to the guys."

Helen sniffles, head bowed at the island, and Kate heads outside to give her neighbour a moment to collect herself. Kate sets the two flasks down on the porch steps, calling out to Castle and Jeff to let them know that they're there, and she earns herself a delighted grin from her partner.

One half of the strand of lights is already secured to the gutter and Kate takes a step back and folds her arms on top of the bump, taking in their handiwork. "Wow, guys. Great job. I can't wait to see them when you switch them on."

"Thanks, honey," Castle calls down to her from the top of the ladder and she flushes, turns her face away from the ridiculous stretch of his smile. "And thanks for the hot chocolate. Jeff said he'll help me put the tree in the stand, too. So you and Helen just relax, enjoy your girl time."

Kate pokes her tongue out at him for that, suddenly wishing that Jeff wasn't here so she could prove to her partner just how capable she is. Instead, she heads back inside and finds that Helen has put herself together somewhat.

"This is delicious, Kate," she lifts her mug in appreciation and Beckett collects her own and comes to sit next to Helen at the kitchen island, sipping at the hot chocolate. She can't help but hum in pleasure at the taste and Helen laughs, takes a sip of her own drink. "Do you have a secret ingredient?"

"Rick's family recipe," she smiles, resting a hand on top of her bump as she keeps the other curled around her mug. "Helen, I hate that you didn't feel comfortable enough to come to the party. You shouldn't have to miss out on a good time because of the women in the group."

Helen huffs a breath of acerbic laughter at that, shaking her head. "Careful Kate. Don't speak ill of them or they'll toss you to the curb."

"Really?" she says, setting her mug down at the counter and lacing her fingers together, capturing them between her knees. "Everybody seemed so nice when I went a few days ago."

"Oh, they're perfectly pleasant as long as you fit in and don't make waves," Helen says darkly, her knuckles white where she clutches at her hot chocolate. Kate makes a little noise of understanding, careful to keep her body language open and ready to listen, and Helen lifts dark eyes to Beckett and goes on. "Kate, the moment I lost my baby, none of them knew what to say to me. I just needed the support of other women, of the people I thought were my friends, but they turned their backs."

Reaching for Helen's free hand, Kate sandwiches it between both of hers. "I am so sorry, Helen. That's a terrible thing to have gone through, especially on your own."

"You know four of them have died this past year?" Helen says, carding a hand through her hair to push it back out of her face. "And it's like nothing happened. They just go on as normal. How can they do that?"

"I don't know," Kate says gently, and the front door clatters open, two deep voices booming down the hallway with a joviality that makes the hair at the back of Beckett's neck stand on end. "I suppose people handle grief differently. Maybe they're just putting on a brave face."

Shaking her head, Helen presses the heels of her palms against her eyes a moment. "They're like robots. They always have been, even before the deaths. I had hoped that the loss of those women might let some humanity break through, but it doesn't seem to have happened."

"Hey, you two," Castle says loudly and Kate shoots him a look, narrowing her eyes at him. Her partner's gaze flicks over to Helen, head still in her hands and he nods, gestures over his shoulder with his thumb. "We're gonna put the tree up. Leave you in peace."

"You know I was the last person to see Rachel Eddowes alive?" Helen says, dropping her hands and folding them neatly in her lap. "She was my best friend. The only person that didn't turn their back on me when I lost the baby. I was at her home, helping her set up for the pool party. I just ducked back to my house to get some more burger buns, and when I came back I found her floating face down in the water."

Kate gasps, although she's already heard this story, already read the statement the local PD took from Helen before they ruled Rachel's death an accident. "You found her body? God, how awful."

"They said she slipped and hit her head," Helen says, her voice thick and wet and her lashes clinging together. A single tear breaks free and slides down her cheek and she swipes hurriedly at it, takes a moment to breathe evenly. "But there was no water to slip on. And she was always so careful."

"Maybe she-" Kate starts, but Helen shakes her head and stands from her stool, pulling her gloves back on.

"We shouldn't do this. I can't- it was ruled an accident. I have to accept that. Thank you for the hot chocolate, Kate."

It's all Beckett can do to hurry after her neighbour as Helen calls sharply for her husband, heading for the front door with Jeff right behind her. They hurry down the porch steps together and Kate calls out a goodbye, closes the front door and turns back to face her partner.

"What was that about?" Castle asks, his eyes wide, and Kate comes in close and lays her head against his chest, lets her touch wipe all of that startled slackness off his face. After a moment her partner guides her through to the great room and reaches for the tree in the stand, holds it upright. "Could you tighten those screws for me?"

Going to her knees on the hardwood, Kate turns the four screws as tight as they will go until they touch the skinny trunk of the tree, holding it in place. Castle is gazing down at her, still waiting for an answer, and Kate shakes her head to clear away the fog of confusion.

"She really hates the women in the mothers' group, but I don't think she's our killer."

"You don't?" Castle says, slowly releasing his grip on their tree to make sure it's not about to topple. Satisfied, he snags a pair of scissors from the coffee table and cuts the netting away from the tree, letting the branches spring out wide and release their forest scent into the room.

Kate sucks in a deep breath through her nose and grins, accepting the hand her partner offers to help her to her feet. "She started to tell me that she doesn't think Rachel's death was an accident, and then she ran out of here. Why would she hint at a sinister motive if she was the one who killed her?"

"So we're back at square one?" Caste huffs, turning to reach for one of the boxes of tree lights and crack it open, pull free the strand of tiny white lights.

She lets him have just a moment to grump about their lack of progress in the case, and then Kate takes a few steps closer to him and lifts up onto her toes, sliding her arms around his neck. His hands come to her back on instinct, one travelling up to curve at the nape of her neck, and Kate leans in to steal a slow, lazy kiss from his mouth.

When she breaks away it takes a moment for her to feel steady on her feet again, for her breath to move easily in her chest, and she touches her thumb to the corner of her partner's mouth. "I wouldn't say that. I think we've made some progress, don't you?"

"I meant with the case," he whispers, already chasing her kiss again, and he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling gently at it. Kate's eyes flutter closed and she sags agains him, a sigh crumbling at the back of her throat as his fingers knead at the base of her skull and his tongue works at her.

"What are we gonna do now?" she gasps against his cheek, and his hand slips down to her ass and squeezes, drags her hips closer against his.

It takes him a moment to figure out an answer, preoccupied with the press of his mouth against hers and the work of his fingers as they drive her to distraction, but eventually he manages to speak, his lips brushing her throat.

"Well, later tonight we're gonna figure out an action plan. But right now, what we're gonna do is finish putting up these decorations, close all of the blinds, and then I want to have you on the couch with the tree lights in the background."


	10. Chapter 10

**Arcadia**

* * *

"Mm," Kate hums, draped over her partner's chest in their bed. Her nose nudges against his sternum and she breathes in the scent of him, a little musky after two rounds. "We're so good at that."

"Are you surprised?" he laughs, dropping a lazy kiss to the crown of her head. All over again, she remembers the slack awe on his face as they moved together, how attentive he is. Every shift and roll of their bodies is so good, and now it's all she can do to lay here limp with satisfaction on his chest.

She manages a kiss against his bare skin, her arm tightening a little around his waist. Her fingers seek the soft spot underneath his ribcage and flutter there, making him yelp and shiver, and she takes pity on him and lays her palm flat against his side.

"Not surprised, no. I always figured we would be great, but I was wrong that first time we met. It was me who had no idea."

Reaching down for the sheets, Castle drags them up over their bodies and shifts underneath her to get a little more comfortable, her leg falling to drape between both of his. "Well you weren't totally wrong. I had no idea either. You're just. . .wow."

"Thanks," she laughs, closing her eyes to keep the joy safe inside. One arm is tight around her shoulders to keep her half on top of him, and the other strokes back and forth at the curve of her waist, his knuckles just skimming her skin. "Can we stay here for the rest of the evening?"

"I thought we were supposed to be figuring out an action plan?" he grins, torquing his neck at an awkward angle to kiss her.

Shifting off her partner's chest, Kate props her head in one hand, elbow to the mattress, and leans over Castle. Her free hand splays at his cheek, thumb circling against the thin skin next to his eye, and he arches his neck to lift his head off the pillow and kiss her, sliding a hand into her hair.

Kate's tongue slicks inside his mouth and he groans, pushing on her shoulder until she lets herself drop onto her back and spread out, her limbs attached with wire as she arranges herself against the mattress. Her partner looms over her and opens his mouth at her neck, careful not to leave any purpling marks as he grazes his teeth over her skin.

"I think- _oh_ ," she gasps, fisting a hand in his hair to hold him in place as his tongue dips into the hollow of her clavicle to taste the moonshine that pools there. "I think we can develop a plan of action while we're in bed, don't you?"

That makes him laugh, and suddenly all of the lust flakes away and he flops onto his back next to her, dropping an arm over his face to cover his eyes. "You think I can concentrate on the case while I'm in bed with you and we're both naked?"

"I think you can do it," she says, shifting closer to him and nuzzling her nose against his cheekbone, one hand snaking down underneath the sheets. "If you try really, really hard."

Her fingers close around him and he yelps, circling her wrist to drag her hand back out from under the sheets and grumbling something about cruelty.

"As much as I love you, I'm gonna need some time before I'm ready to go again. So we might as well use it to figure out what we're gonna do."

"You're right," she agrees, climbing out of bed and padding to the closet, her bare skin prickling with the hot rake of his eyes. Kate snags one of his button downs from the hangar and tugs it over her head, a handful of buttons keeping it modest.

A little more modest than she was aiming for, actually, and she unhooks a button at each end of the placket, lets a little more skin peek out from under the starch-crisp fabric. Back in the bedroom, she grabs a fresh pair of underwear from the dresser and steps into them, arranging the lace over her hips. She finds a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt for her partner and tosses them towards him, heads to the kitchen to get them each a glass of water while he gets dressed.

When she comes back he's sitting up against the headboard, the pale grey cotton of his shirt stretched tight around the swell of his biceps and the sheets draped neatly across his lap. Kate hands him his glass and climbs into bed beside him. "I had a thought."

"Hit me with it," Castle says, taking a sip of water before he settles the glass down on his nightstand and reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together.

"I was thinking, how did our killer gain access to the victim's homes? All four of our victims must have been killed while their backs were turned, must have been snuck up on. So we were operating under the assumption that they just let the killer inside, right? But what if they didn't. What if the killer broke in?"

She gives her partner a moment to think it through, little creases forming in his forehead as he chews on it, and his thumb rubs absent-minded little circles back and forth at the base of hers. "You're right. Apart from Mary-Anne, all of our victims were killed at home. So our killer must have gained entry somehow."

"I had a thought about how we can figure it out, too. I bet Bill would have an idea of how you can get inside the house if the doors are locked."

"Do people keep their doors locked in a place like this?" Castle says dryly, and Kate slips down in the bed a little bit, lets her head rest against the firm length of his bicep.

Huffing a laugh, she strokes the outline of his knee underneath the sheets, drumming the tips of her fingers against the hard slate of his patella. "Oh yeah. The women at the mothers' group drilled that into me. Not necessarily to keep people out, but to keep the kids in. You don't want them to just open the door and wander off."

"Right, so it stands to reason that all of our victims would keep their doors locked," Castle says, sliding an arm around her shoulders to keep her body close against his. He drops little kisses to her temple, his lips warm and soft, and Kate squirms with happiness. "And asking Bill is smart. I bet he knows what to do, if we were to get locked out or something. We could pretend we did and figure it out that way."

"Good idea," Kate hums, the inside of his bicep warm against the back of her neck, and his fingers flirt with the collar of the shirt she stole from him, dipping down to skim her clavicle. It makes her feel lazy, and her body slides further down the bed until she's tucked under his arm and her nose nuzzles at his ribcage. "But let's maybe do that tomorrow. I don't feel like putting the bump back on tonight."

That makes him laugh and he draws them both down in the bed until they're horizontal again. Kate curls up on her side, drawing her knees up until they nudge against his thigh and his arm drapes over her, fingertips snaking under her shirt to tuck into the waistband of her underwear.

"Are you tired?" he murmurs. They're sharing a pillow, their noses almost touching, and it's nothing at all to dust a kiss to his mouth. She can't believe it was only last night that they did this for the first time, that it's been a little less than twenty four hours since she finally kissed him for real.

Already, it's so easy. He kisses her like it's everything, like he's awed by her, but there's no awkward shuffling around one another. No figuring out how they work as a couple, because they've already been partners for so long.

"No, not really. I just feel lazy. I kinda want to cuddle and watch a movie," she admits, her cheeks flushing.

The suggestion makes him grin and he turns his face into the pillow and drums his feet against the mattress like a little boy. "You are so amazing. There's nothing I want to do more than snuggle up with you."

"See now why doesn't it surprise me that you're a cuddler," she teases, sifting her fingers through his hair. Curling her toes in the sheets, Kate chases his mouth and brushes a kiss to the corner of his lips, an arm sliding around his neck. "Wanna pick the movie?"

"I have Netflix on the laptop," he says, already reaching for it from the nightstand drawer. It gives Kate a clear view of the backs of his thighs as the sheet tugs down around his waist and she can't help but reach for him, fluttering her fingers against his skin.

The drawer slams and he barks out a pained noise, drawing his hand back and sucking on his knuckle, his eyes wide. " _Ouch_. That was mean. You're mean, Kate Beckett."

"I'm sorry," she says, letting the breath support drop from her voice and gazing up at him through hooded eyes, her lashes splicing him up. "I didn't mean for you to hurt yourself. Let me see."

Taking his hand, Kate smoothes her thumb over his knuckle where it's a little red, lifting it to her mouth and letting her tongue flick out to touch his skin. He shudders, a growl rumbling low down in his throat, and his eyes slam closed. "Beckett. A movie. "

"You don't want me?" she hums, tilting her head at him so that the spill of her hair falls over one shoulder. Last night, he admitted against the crease of her neck that her hair has always driven him to distraction, and then he fisted a hand in the curls and she was on her knees and-

Well. She's adding it to her list of new ways to shut him up.

"I do," he gruffs, a hand at the back of her neck to reel her in. The hair at her nape is starting to get a little tangled now, because every time Castle kisses her his fingers are drawn to the so-soft skin. His tongue touches the swell of her bottom lip and as she arches towards him, her mouth open and seeking, he breaks away from the kiss entirely. "I really do. But I also want to cuddle and watch a movie. So, that first? And then we've got the rest of the night to do, uh, other things."

"Okay," she grins, taking the laptop from the mattress and settling back in beside him with it balanced against her thighs.

Opening it up, she types in his passcode and he makes a disgruntled noise beside her, his chin propped on the top of her shoulder so that his jawbone grates against her every time he moves his head. "How did you know my password?"

"You know mine," she fires right back, arching an eyebrow at him and schooling her face into careful slackness when his teeth close around her earlobe. "Castle, I know you think you know everything there is to know about me because of your writerly observations and whatnot, but I'm a detective. I've picked up a couple of things about you, too, over the years."

"That's so sexy," he growls, his mouth open at her neck, and Kate jabs her elbow back against his solar plexus, has him sagging against the pillows. "Alright, come on then. You choose."

Kate opens up his web browser and searches for Netflix, clicking to open the site. It opens up to ask who's watching, the four little icons with their goofy faces, and Kate turns over her shoulder to see him and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks, by the way. For giving me your Netflix password."

"No problem," he shrugs, but she catches the pleased little quirk at one corner of his mouth. He'd been going on about some movie at the precinct a few months ago, squabbling with the boys about a plot detail that went right over her head, and she had made the mistake of asking what they were talking about.

Immediately, all three of them had turned on her with matching horrified expressions, and then Castle had insisted that she watch the movie the moment she got home from work, had scrawled his Netflix login on a bright orange post-it and tucked it up safe against her palm.

Since then, she's been one of the profiles on his account, along with Alexis and Martha. She doesn't use it all that often, but enough that she's grateful for it. And every time she sees that little green cyclops face with her name underneath, the thought of being part of Castle's family sends a shower of bubbling joy cascading through her belly.

"What are you in the mood for?" she asks, scrolling through the offerings. She clicked on Castle's profile instead of her own, intrigued to see what's in his history, and she arches an eyebrow at him, her mouth stitched into a seam. "Continue watching _Brothers and Sisters_?"

"Hey," he whines, taking his laptop back from her and curling up around it. "It's a good show."

Both eyebrows travelling up towards her hairline now, Kate folds her arms across her chest, still a little alarmed by the curious flatness of her stomach without the suit on. "Sure it is."

"Excuse me," Castle huffs at her, drawing his legs up to curl up even tighter around his computer. "May I remind you that I hardly teased you at all about your _Temptation Lane_ fangirling. I even got you that signed poster."

"I remember," she says, a smile curving at her mouth and she ducks her head, tucks herself in close beside him. "I have it in my bedroom, you know."

That makes him grin in echo of her, a kiss brushed to the end of her nose. "I can't wait to see it when we get back to the city."

"And I look forward to getting to know your bed, too," she says, straightening up again and taking the laptop back, laying it against her thighs. "Now. Let's pick something."

"You know, maybe we should watch _Brothers and Sisters_ ," he says wryly. "There was a lawyer in the pilot episode who really reminded me of you."

Knocking her temple against his chin, Kate rolls her eyes and touches two fingers to the mousepad to scroll through the offerings. "I said a movie. Not five seasons of a TV show."

"Alright, alright," her partner laughs, his arm sliding around her shoulders again until she's settled comfortably, half leaning against him and half against the stack of pillows. "Hmm, what about this one? You seen it?"

He moves the mouse to hover over the movie poster and Kate furrows her brows, scanning the description. " _Heathers_? Is it any good."

"Oh, cult classic, Beckett," he says, already clicking on the little play icon to start the movie up. "You have to see it. And you know, I think there's a musical based on the movie that's in development."

"Why does it not surprise me that you're excited about a musical?" she teases, but Kate wriggles to get comfortable and rests her head back against her partner's chest, tucking the sheets in around them both. "Alright then, let's see what all the fuss is about."

* * *

Kate finds herself singing in front of the stove the next morning, pancakes browning to perfection in the skillet and the coffee percolating, the rich smell of it curling up to meet her. She's wearing one of his t-shirts with her pajama pants and the cotton stretches wide over the baby bump, distorting the Green Lantern logo.

Last night after the movie finished they had an in-depth conversation about the plot, about murder being passed off as suicide, and Castle suggested that their killer might actually be a disgruntled high schooler. It had made her laugh, and then she had smudged the arc of her grin against his own smile and he had rolled her underneath him, careful to put the laptop safely out of the way.

Her body is grumbling at her for it, for only snatching a handful of hours' sleep, but she's loose with satisfaction as she flits her way around the kitchen, keeping a watchful eye on their breakfast. When everything's ready, she sets it all out on a tray and heads back for the bedroom to wake her partner.

"Castle," she hums as she comes inside the room, settling the tray down on her nightstand and slatting open the blinds to let the dove grey of the early morning creep its way inside and allow her to see him. His skin looks so smooth, his face slack with whatever lovely dreams he's having, and Kate sinks to sit by his hip and touches her thumb to the corner of his eye. "Babe, come on. Time to wake up."

"Mm," he groans, rolling over onto his back, and his body creaks like an old ship battered by a storm. "Kate? Time s'it?"

She gives him a little space, doesn't want to get clipped by a felled arm as he thrashes into awareness, and Kate comes around to get into bed on the other side and reach for the tray, keep it in her lap. Eventually, Castle heaves himself into sitting up and props his body against the headboard, scrubbing his fists against his eyes.

His whole jaw comes unhinged on a yawn and he turns his head to see her, reaching for her hand and lifting it to his lips to kiss each of her knuckles one by one. "Good morning, gorgeous. I could wake up like this every day."

"Me too," she admits, shifting across the mattress to tuck herself in tighter against him now that he's got full control of his limbs. Usually Kate is out of bed the moment awareness hits her, hates to feel like she's wasting the day just lounging between the sheets, but with Castle everything is different.

This morning she woke up slowly, like wading through clear and lovely water, and opened her eyes to the shard of Castle's cheekbone and the thick forest of his lashes. She let herself have the indulgence, tracing a fingertip back and forth along the seam of his elbow and watching the scrunching of his face as he dreamed, hearing the muttering of nonsensical word salad. It took her half an hour to muster the willpower to get herself out of bed, and then only because the idea of bringing him breakfast was an excellent motivator.

"So, we're pretending to get locked out today, right?" Castle clarifies as he reaches for his coffee cup, blowing gently on the surface of the liquid and sending little ripples scattering through the mug.

Kate sets the tray down between them and reaches for her own coffee, humming her pleasure as the first sip scalds its way through her mouth. "Yeah. That's the only plan we have right now."

"I'm sure it'll-" he starts, and then his jaw snaps shut and he sets his mug down clumsily on the nightstand, a couple of drips sloshing up over the rim. "Kate Beckett, did you call me babe?"

"Yes," she winces, pressing her hands to her cheeks as if that can hide the furious bloom of colour from him. She's not even sure where it came from, only that she is so absolutely smitten with her partner that for the first time in her life, pet names no longer fill her with revulsion. "Sorry."

Castle takes her mug from her and sets it down next to his, moving the tray to the nightstand as well so he can get his arms around her and drag her across the sheets, tuck her in close against him. "Don't be sorry. I think it's adorable."

"Are you saying I'm cute?" she huffs, feeling a little grumpy with it, but a pout plumps her bottom lip and his whole face goes soft with adoration, a hand coming up to settle against her cheek. "I'm a detective."

"You are," he affirms, fingers wriggling underneath her arm to make her squirm. "And that's badass. But you're also smoking hot. And then sometimes you're half asleep all curled up on my chest and you do this little scrunching thing with your nose, and it's about the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Kate buries her face against her partner's chest, a completely ridiculous flood of emotion scalding the backs of her eyes, and she takes a second to breathe through the melt of love in her chest. "I think you're pretty cute too."

"Well obviously," he grins, wiggling his shoulders to jostle her, but it makes laughter bubble up behind her sternum and she manages to straighten up and look at him again. Her hands come to his jaw to hold him in place and she leans in, kisses him slow and good so that he knows how honoured she is to be his love.

They eat in easy silence, then, Castle making tiny noises of pleasure around mouthfuls of pancake, and when they're done he offers her the first shower, disappearing to the kitchen to clean up their breakfast things.

Kate washes her hair and shaves, passing her partner on her way out of the shower stall and lifting up in her bare feet to kiss him. He shudders at the cold touch of her hair against his chest and she steps away again, patting his bare butt to usher him on his way.

She takes the time to blow dry her hair, head upside down in front of the dresser, and when wet hands come to the span of her waist she shrieks and jerks upright again, spinning around to see her partner with a towel slung down low around his hips and a ridiculous grin stretching his mouth.

"Did I scare you, Detective?" he teases and she swats at his bare chest, turning off the blowdryer and setting it on the dresser. One finger to his chest, Kate pushes him a few inches away from her and turns back to face herself in the mirror and inspect the fall of her hair. From over her shoulder he pulls a string of goofy faces that she steadfastly ignores, but he slides his arms around her waist and kisses the corner of her mouth. "I see you smiling."

"Not smiling," she knocks her head against his, and he untangles himself to let her struggle her way into the pregnancy suit and pad through to the closet to get dressed.

She picks out a woollen dress in a pale blue-grey, pairing it with darker grey tights, and she heads back for their bedroom to put some makeup on while Castle gets dressed himself. When he comes back he fists his hands in the material over her hips and reels her in, takes a kiss from her. "See? Told you. Super cute."

"Stop," she flushes, burying her face against his neck, and the thick navy knit of his sweater tickles her cheek. Her awkwardness makes him laugh and he wraps his arms around her and squeezes, his lips dusting the crown of her head.

Untangling herself, Kate heads for the laundry room to find boots and a coat, winding a scarf around her neck as well. Behind her, Castle whistles a merry tune while he shrugs his way into his own jacket and she rolls her eyes, whipping around to face him.

"Can you try to look a little bit less like you got thoroughly laid last night," she says, winding her arms around his neck and tilting her head on a wry smirk.

Castle's forehead drops to rest against hers and he growls low in his throat, palms settled in the curves of her waist. "But Kaaate. That was the best sex of my _life_ , last night. How can every round be better than the last?"

"I don't know," she says, teeth sinking into her bottom lip for just a moment. "But it does keep getting better, doesn't it."

" _Yeah_ ," he gruffs, and then he drops his hands from her waist and takes a couple of stumbling steps backwards, pushing his hands into the depths of his pockets instead. "We need to go see Bill. Figure out how to break in to our own house."

Kate reaches for his hand and they leave the house together, strolling the few blocks to Maggie and Bill's home. Her partner tucks their joined hands into the depths of his pocket to protect them from the chill and their shoulders bump together as they walk.

On the porch of Maggie's home, Kate curls a palm at the back of his neck and draws him down to her, kisses him softly. Her fingers play with his earlobe and when they break apart she smiles, dipping her head.

"What was that for?" he says, a grin curling at the seam of his mouth, and he tucks her hair back behind one ear.

Shrugging, Kate drops her hand from his neck and pushes both of hers into her pockets in case she reaches for him again. "I just thought I might not get the chance for a little while."

"You can kiss me any time you feel like it," he says, and then he reaches out to ring the doorbell.

It swings open almost immediately and Bill beams at them, ushering them both inside. "Good morning, you two. How are you?"

"We're fantastic," Castle grins, reaching for Kate's hand again and lacing their fingers. "Well, almost fantastic. We accidentally locked ourselves out of the house, and we were wondering if you have any idea how we can get back in before we have to call a locksmith."

"I do indeed. Excuse me just a moment," Bill says, disappearing into the study for a second, and Kate turns a smile up to her partner. He grins right back, and then Bill is in front of them again. "Come on."

"Thank you so much," Kate says, stepping out onto the porch at Bill's ushering, and Castle sticks close by her side.

Leaning back into the house, Bill calls up the stairs to his wife. "Maggie dear, I'm just going to help Kate and Rick with something, I'll be back in a jiffy."

The three of them walk together back to the house and gather on the lawn, the dig of the key in Kate's pocket making her feel a little on edge. She took it just in case Bill somehow doesn't manage to get them inside, and she can't help but worry the jagged teeth of it with the pad of her thumb.

"Do you have a garage door opener?" Bill asks, glancing around as if he hopes one will materialise, but beside her Castle's spine snaps to attention.

"It's in the car!" he says, but then his shoulders deflate and he winces. "Which is locked. And the keys are in the house."

Bill heads for the car and peers in the window, comes back a moment later and tugs a little ring of four identical garage door openers from his pocket. "I'll let you guys in on a secret. There are only four unique codes for the garage door openers. Yours is this one."

He presses a button on one of the remotes and the mouth of their garage opens wide, peeling back to show the mostly empty cavern of the interior. Bill ushers the two of them inside and Kate clings to her partner's hand, anxiety spiking in her guts.

"Skeleton key," Bill says, showing them the simple key for the door into the house, and he slides it smoothly into the lock and opens the door, swings it wide. "There you go."

"Thank you so much," Castle says, the three of them moving up the steps and inside the house. "It's handy to know that it's not a total disaster if we get ourselves locked out again."

Bill laughs at that, a little too loudly, and it sets Kate's teeth on edge. "I don't have a key for the front doors, but I can get you inside if you ever need me to in an emergency."

"Thank you," Kate says, and Bill moves back towards the door again.

Making his way down the steps, he hesitates at the bottom of them and puts the key away in his pocket again. "You're very welcome. I'll close the garage door on my way out. Have a nice day."

"Bye," Castle calls from over Kate's shoulder, and the moment the garage door rolls down again Kate whips around to face him, her jaw slack. Her partner's expression echoes hers, his eyes wide, and he grapples for her hand as if he needs the grip to keep him standing. "Can you believe how easy that was?"

"I know!" she splutters, dragging Castle with her and pushing on his shoulder to have him sit at the kitchen island, settling on the barstool next to his. "If anybody were to get a hold of those keys they could get into any house in the whole neighbourhood."

Shaking his head, Castle swivels to lean back against the countertop and finally manages to close his mouth again. "I can't believe it's even legal for Bill to keep a key to everybody's home."

"It's kind of making me want to change the locks," Kate huffs, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and unbuttoning her coat, shrugging her way out of it and draping it over her lap instead. "But at least we have something to go on now."

"Do you think we could manage to get the keys away from Bill long enough to dust them for prints?" her partner hedges and Kate winces, shaking her head.

"No, I don't. He must guard them pretty closely."

Castle's forehead creases at that and he stares out of the French doors and into their garden, as if the neat prickle of grass will inspire him. "I bet we could. You get yourself invited over to Maggie's place, I'll lure Bill over here somehow, and you sneak into the study and dust them while she's distracted with something."

It's a reckless idea, but she's getting desperate. Christmas is getting ever closer, and she can't bear the idea of her partner spending it here, away from his daughter. At this point, she'll take a reckless idea over no idea at all.

"You know what? That just might work."


	11. Chapter 11

**Arcadia**

* * *

"Oh, hey," Kate turns to him, swivelling on the barstool until her knees bump up against his thigh. His palm comes to cover the slate of her kneecap, fingers working their way into the seam of her leg, and he waits on her as she swallows the mouthful of her sandwich. "Alice texted me. She wants us to meet up for coffee this afternoon. Well she'll have coffee, I'll be suffering through decaf."

Castle chuckles, shaking his head in sympathy with her. "Are you going to her house?"

"Yeah."

"Then you can have real coffee," he says, lifting a shoulder at her. "Alice knows our secret, remember? You don't have to pretend in front of her."

"That is a very good point," Kate grins at him, leaning forward with one palm curled at the back of his neck, and she almost topples right out of her seat. His hands settle at her waist to steady her and he comes in to meet her the rest of the way, stealing a kiss from her mouth.

A part of her - a large part - wants to decline Alice's kind invitation and laze the day away with her partner, enjoy the fact that neither of them exactly has anything to do here in the suburbs, but she does want to see her friend.

"When do you need to go?" he asks, popping a potato chip into his mouth and crunching down on it, the smile all in his eyes as he looks at her.

Kate glances to her father's watch where it circles her wrist and her eyes widen. Stumbling down from the bar stool, she comes around to press a kiss to her partner's cheek, tugging away to look at him and settling a palm against the side of his face, her thumb beside his eye. "Now. I'm gonna be late."

"Have fun," he calls after her as she hurries for the laundry room where she dumped her coat and boots, struggling her way into them. Kate winds a scarf around her neck and pulls on gloves, curling and flexing her fingers a couple of times to settle the leather around her fingers properly.

Moving back through the kitchen, Kate brushes a kiss to her partner's mouth on her way past him, letting herself take the time to savour the way his hands sift through her hair, his tongue working at her. Her hips rock shallowly and she breaks away, huffs a breath and rubs her thumb over the shine of his bottom lip.

"Bye," Kate says, kissing his cheek before she comes away entirely and leaves the kitchen, heading for the front door.

Clouds are gathering in great swathes overhead, thick and dark, and Kate tucks her coat a little tighter around herself as she hurries around the block to Alice's home. The weather report said it might snow later, and a little thrill of girlish excitement hums in her belly as she glances up at the clouds swollen with their flakes.

Alice comes to answer the door right away, Connor at her hip, and when the baby sees Kate he smacks his gums and giggles brightly, little arms reaching for her. Stepping inside, Kate lets him curl his fingers around her thumb and she pulls a goofy face at him, has him dissolving into cascading laughter. "Hey little man. You're cheerful today."

"Wanna hold him?" Alice asks, waiting for Kate to shrug out of her coat and scarf, pulling her gloves off one at a time and tucking them safely into the pocket of her trench. They trade, Alice taking Kate's coat and Kate taking the baby, and she bounces him in her arms a little.

He sags against her chest, his weight doubling, and he nuzzles his face into her neck where the chill still clings, his cheeks warm and lovely where they touch her. "Hi buddy. Are you being good for Mommy today?"

"He's being as good as he knows how," Alice laughs, reaching out to tug on her son's foot. "Come through and sit. Want some coffee?"

"Sure, thanks," Kate says, sinking to sit in the armchair and shifting Connor around until the baby sits at her thighs. One arm banding tight around his tummy, Kate bounces her knees and he squeals, reaching up for a fistful of her hair where it falls down in front of him.

Uncurling his fist, Kate takes her hair back and sweeps it over the opposite shoulder out of his reach, murmuring nonsense against the baby's ear. He points for a toy on the floor, asks for it in his baby babble, and Kate hooks it with her foot and drags it close enough for her to grab, reaching down to get it from the ground and hand it to Connor.

"There you go, buddy. Was that what you wanted, huh?" she coos, holding the bright purple octopus steady so that Connor can put the rings over the tentacles, looking to her for praise before he takes them back off and repeats the process.

Alice comes back with two mugs and sets one down on the end table beside Kate, settling on the couch opposite with her own coffee cup. "If you get tired of holding him, just say and I'll take him back."

"I'm not sure he's very comfy, what with the bump," she says, one corner of her mouth pulling in apology. That makes Alice laugh and she comes to take her son back, setting him down in the pack and play next to the couch. Connor immediately falls to sit heavily on his diaper-padded butt, little legs sticking straight out in front of him, and he sings to himself as he plays with the collection of toys in the portable crib.

"So," Alice says, sitting again and wrapping both hands around her mug. She rests the cup at her knee, one thumb tracing the ceramic curve of the handle, and she arches an eyebrow at Kate. "You and Rick seemed very cozy at the Christmas party."

Heat flames in Kate's cheeks and she scowls at her friend, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm amazed you can even remember anything that happened that night."

"Most of it's kind of blurry," she admits on a laugh, shaking her head at herself. "But I won't forget how close you two were in a hurry. Did you tell him you love him, yet?"

"No," Kate shakes her head, feels a little seed of guilt take root in her belly.

Alice groans dramatically and presses a hand to her forehead, flopping back against the couch. "Kate, are you kidding me. He looked like he wanted to push you against the nearest hard surface the last time I saw you guys together."

"I didn't-" she interrupts, lifting a hand to silence Alice, and a smile starts to bloom at one corner of her mouth. "Tell him yet. But we did talk."

"You did?" Alice shrieks, catapulting forward again and clasping her hands, trapping them between her knees. Her legs bounce and she holds Kate's gaze, her eyes wide with anticipation. "What about?"

Leaning against the back of the armchair, Kate arches her back and grins, feeling lazy as a cat just remember the past couple of days with her partner. "Well, he told me he overhead the end of our conversation. So he knew that I heard him, the first time he told me he loves me."

"Oh my gosh," Alice gasps, setting her mug down on the end table so that she doesn't send her coffee sloshing all over the floor. The way she trembles with the tension of the moment has caught Connor's attention now and he presses his face up against the mesh of the pack and play to watch his mother. "Did you guys fight?"

"No, he was really understanding about my reasons. And then he kissed me."

Fist pumping in the air, Alice crows with delight and then descends into joyous giggles, her feet drumming against the floor. "Woohoo! Finally. I'm so happy you guys kissed. And _talked_."

"We did more than just kiss," she smirks, lifting her eyebrows and casting her eyes along the floor, her gaze getting caught on the corner of the vibrant, zany rug. Kate traces the yellow and navy and grey chevrons with her eyes so she doesn't have to look at Alice, needing a moment without scrutiny to bask in actually saying it aloud.

Alice is the first person to know about them, and it feels so wonderful to share how happy she is. She can't even imagine what it will be like to tell Lanie or the boys, their families. People who have walked alongside them for the entire journey into togetherness,

"You guys had sex?" Alice blurts, a few decibels louder than Kate would like, and she buries her face in both hands.

"Yes. More than once."

There's a squeal from the couch and Kate peeks over the craggy rows of her fingertips at Alice, sees the joy all over her friend's face. "Oh, I'm so happy for you guys. Was it good?"

"I don't-" Kate splutters, shooting a panicked glance towards the baby in the crib. Connor seems to have lost interest in their conversation, absorbed in his toys once again, but still. "Little ears."

"Oh, like he knows what we're talking about," Alice huffs, waving a hand in dismissal. "Please, Kate? Just one teeny-weeny little detail?"

A growl rumbles at the base of her throat and Kate presses her hands to her cheeks, closing her eyes for a long moment. "I want to keep it just for us, you know? It's. . .so precious to me."

"Okay, honey," Alice says, her voice suddenly gentle again. "I'm just teasing. As long as he's keeping you satisfied, that's all I need to know."

"He is," Kate confirms, biting down on her bottom lip to keep the spill of girlish joy safe inside. It's the best she's ever had, because she already trusts him with her life and with her heart. Trusting him with her body is nothing at all, and the way she loves him makes her selfless in bed in a way she never has been before.

Alice reaches for her cup of coffee, curling her legs up underneath herself on the couch and sipping at her drink. It jolts Kate into remembering her own cup and she reaches for it, swallowing down a mouthful of coffee.

"I'm so happy for you guys," Alice smiles, tracing the rim of her mug with the pad of her finger. "And what about the case? Have you made much progress?"

"Not really," Kate admits. She doesn't want to share any of the finer details of the investigation with a civilian, quite sure that Gates would ream her out if she ever knew. And, well, although she took an instant liking to Alice, she can't be completely certain that the other woman isn't involved somehow.

Straightening the sleeve of her sweater where it's gotten a little twisted around, Alice offers Kate a shy little smile and picks at a raggedy cuticle, eyes firmly settled on the work of her hands. "Well, like I said before. If there's anything I can do to help you guys, please let me know. It would be nice to be useful, and to help get justice for the victims."

"I will do," Kate promises, her palm settling at the curve of her stomach. "And Alice, when we do find out who's behind this, Rick and I might have to get out of here pretty quickly. There might not be time to say goodbye."

"Oh," she deflates, and suddenly that shy woman Kate first met at the mothers' group is in front of her again. The edge of her cuticle peels off down to the knuckle, leaving a raw strip of skin behind, but Alice barely even winces. "I get it. You don't belong here."

Setting her mug down on the end table, Kate gets up from her armchair and moves to sit beside Alice on the couch again, reaching for her good hand. "You're right, we don't belong here. But Rick and I would love it if you and Joel and Connor came to visit us in the city sometimes."

"Really?" Alice says, hope breaking like dawn across her face, and she flips her hand in Kate's to squeeze her fingers. "You- we can see you guys again?"

"Of course!" Kate says, injecting joviality into her voice to shake Alice out of her doldrums. "Alice, Rick and I came here to solve a case. We didn't realise that along the way, we'd meet people who would become firm friends."

Colour floods Alice's cheeks and she ducks her head, her brilliant smile only just visible to Kate. "I'm really glad to have met you guys. Not that the other couples who live here aren't lovely in their way, but they're not really _real_. It's nice to have a frank conversation for once."

"Well, any time you want to complain about how dry Laurel's scones are, call me," she laughs, nudging her shoulder against Alice's.

Their heads dip together over their shared secret and Kate hooks her arm through Alice's, so happy to have somebody to share in her joy with. She can share it with her partner, of course; he's always eager to kiss her, to bury his smile against the crown of her head. There's something different about gossiping with a girlfriend though, and Kate hopes that someday she'll be able to introduce Alice to Lanie, certain that they'll adore each other.

Time rolls on by, their mugs long empty, and by the time Kate heaves herself up from the couch dusk has settled its cloak over the earth. "I should get home. God knows what Castle has gotten up to, being left alone all this time."

"Good luck with that," Alice laughs, rising from her seat and collecting her son from the pack and play, her lips to the top of Connor's head as he snuggles down into her arms. She pads along behind Kate and opens the front door for her while Kate pulls on her coat, her scarf and gloves.

"Thank you for the coffee," Kate smiles, leaning in to kiss Connor's chubby little cheek and wriggling her fingers underneath his chin to make him giggle. Propping her hip against the doorframe, Alice bounces her son in her arms and calls out a goodbye as Kate heads down the porch steps.

It's only been a couple of hours, but her heart protests in misery at having been away from her partner and she aches to get back to him, let his lips skim over her skin in chase of the patina that winter's kiss paints her with.

* * *

By the time she's done clearing up their dinner things her fingers are puffy and prune-like and she dries them on a dishtowel, heads to find her partner. He cooked, made a stew while she was at Alice's home, and so she had insisted that he let her clean up, sent him to go call his daughter and see how she was doing.

Kate meets him in the living room, slamming against the wall of his chest and his arms come around her automatically, squeezing tight. He's breathless, his cheeks flushed, and he bounces on his toes. Hands coming up between them, he frames her face and leans in, kisses her softly.

"It's snowing," he breathes against her mouth, hands slipping down to her biceps now. "Can we please go out and enjoy it?"

"Yes," she beams, tangling her fingers with his and leading him to the laundry room. Kate steps into her rubber boots and Castle stops what he's doing to stare at them. They're bright red, with white polka dots, and she mostly wears them up at her father's cabin in the winter.

Something about them makes her feel girlish and she clicks her heels together and grins down at her own feet. "You like them?"

"They're fantastic," he smiles, tucking the tails of his scarf down underneath the lapels of his coat. He collects gloves and pulls them on, skims woollen fingers over her cheekbone and uses that touch to draw her in for another kiss.

Excitement is sweet on his lips and Kate curls her fingers in the collar of his coat, letting the smooth line of her body press in close against his. "Let's go make a snowman."

"Wait a second," her partner says, snagging her hand to stop her from wandering off. Castle fastens the three buttons on her coat and winds a scarf around her neck, gently easing her hair free before he tucks the tails inside. He hands her a pair of gloves to put on, and produces a hat from somewhere.

It's a grey knit beanie and he tugs it onto her head, arranging her hair over her shoulders for her. Leaning in, he dusts a kiss to the very tip of her nose and reaches for her hand, their palms clasped as they move back through the kitchen and to the French doors.

Outside, she shivers as crooked fingers curl their way underneath the thick knit of her scarf, and she tucks herself in a little closer against her partner's side. They step onto the grass and Kate tips her face up towards the sky, the peace of a bright-dark world filling her up.

Later the ploughs will come through, the world remade in salt and grit, but it's hours before the roads will be scraped raw and she hums a little, winding her arm through Castle's. Turning back, she grins at the crooked step of their footprints, winding together across the grass. "It's so beautiful."

"I love snow," her partner beams at her side, letting go of her hand to hold both of his arms out away from his sides. Snow gathers along the tops of his shoulders and in his hair, clinging like a static charge, and Castle's grin is as wide as the arc of his hands.

"Come here," she murmurs, holding out a hand to him, and he comes to wind his arms around her waist. Kate leans back against the clasp of his hands, tilting her head to gaze up at him, and she blinks to clear the tiny flakes that cling to the thicket of her lashes. "I don't want to go back to the city."

That makes Castle beam and he chases her mouth, a kiss to the corner of her smile before he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, his tongue just darting out to tease her. One of his hands tucks into her pocket and wriggles there, making her laugh into their kiss.

"Let's not. Let's stay here forever."

"We can't," she sighs, letting him draw her in with a palm at the curve of her skull and burying her face at the warm creases of his neck. "We'd go crazy. I don't really mean it."

Untangling herself from her partner's grip, Kate reaches up to touch his face, gloved fingers skimming the chill of his skin. The cold makes her own face feel stretched taut across the bones of her skull and she wrinkles her nose, hopes to send cracks through the ice.

"I know you don't," Castle says, the snow coming down a little heavier now, and it makes him blink in surprise whenever a snowflake leaves a cold kiss against his chill. "I didn't either. We love the city, Kate. It's home."

"Yeah, I know," she murmurs. Suddenly, petulance makes her feel like a child again and she sinks down into the slow, spreading out on her back and moving her arms to make an angel. Castle comes to lay with her, their heads together and his body stretching out away from hers. "I do love the city, I really do. It's just so nice to spend all of this time together. Not having to worry about a redhead or a dead body interrupting us."

That makes him chuckle, and Kate wishes she could see the scrunch of his face in amusement. The cold starts to seep through the thick wool of her coat, soaking her hair, and Kate's teeth chatter violently. Sitting up again, she stands up carefully and steps away from the angel she's created, coming around to offer a hand to her partner and help him to his feet too.

They stand hand in hand to take in the two angels together and Castle leans in to steal a kiss from her mouth, joy filling him up so that it spills over into Kate, makes her whole body fizz with exhilaration. The cold makes her feel hyperaware of the lust that fists in her gut, and she uses the grip on Castle's hand to drape his arm around her shoulders, turning her face into his coat.

"Kate, we're gonna get interrupted. That's the nature of our lives. But the fact that we'll be doing something to get interrupted in the first place is more than enough for me," he says quietly, and she's glad for the softness of his voice.

The whole world is muffled around them, and Kate almost wants to go to her knees with reverence for the great splendour of the earth. Instead, she clings tight to her partner and stretches up on her toes in her rubber boots to kiss him. "It's enough for me, too. Getting to do this is worth whatever challenges we might have to overcome."

"We're gonna be so happy," he smiles against her mouth, kissing her again, and her arms slide around his neck in an embrace, his own so tight at her waist that her feet come clean off the ground. "God, I love you so much."

It makes her feel loose and liquid and she clings tight to him, their bodies aligned from shoulder to knee. She lets them have another few moments together in hushed awe, his woollen fingers snaking underneath her scarf to flirt with the skin at her nape.

She loves him - adores him - but being in his arms like this with the whole world silent and still around them is making her feel a little weepy. Clearing her throat, Kate wriggles out of his arms and kisses him again, her gloves hands flat against his chest as her tongue slicks inside his mouth.

The moment his body cants into hers, a growl humming in his chest, Kate breaks away from their kiss and takes off at a run, hooking her arm around one of the posts that supports the bench in the corner and using the momentum to swing herself around and drop to her knees behind it.

Quickly, she forms a compact ball with the snow and peeks up over the back of the bench, sees her partner glancing around himself in apprehension. Raising up just a little more, Kate launches the snowball at him. It lands perfectly, hitting him square in the solar plexus, and the shock of it makes him take a few stumbling steps backwards.

"Kate!" he yelps, jaw slack with disbelief, and then the next moment he drops to the ground and starts forming an arsenal of his own, hunched over like Gollum to protect his snowballs from her assault.

She takes a moment to watch him, feels her heart do a slow turn in her chest with tenderness for him, and then Kate busies herself with forming the perfect snowballs. She favours quality, would rather have only a couple that she can trust to land where she wants them to than handfuls of snowballs that will only crumple mid-flight.

A projectile comes sailing over the top of the bench and hits her in the back, making her yelp and fall forwards, catching her weight on her hands. Gritting her teeth, Kate peeks around the side of the bench and sees that her partner hasn't even bothered to find shelter yet.

Kate sends another snowball sailing through the air; it hits her partner in the cheek and knocks him flat on his back. He doesn't move, and panic floods her system like the spill of ink. That snowball was pretty solid, and hitting him in the cheekbone like that must have felt like a slice against his skin.

Hurrying out from behind her shelter, Kate runs across the grass and goes to her knees next to her partner, the snow's teeth chewing at her skin through her woollen tights. Raking one gloved hand through his hair, she pushes the spill of it back out of his face, her other hand coming to his cheek.

"Castle, are you okay?"

There's not a sound from her partner, not a twitch, and Kate chokes on a noise of grief. She doesn't see his arm move, and then suddenly ice cascades down her spine and she screams, wrenches away from him.

The snow falls out of the bottom of her dress when she shakes herself and she scowls at Castle as his face creases up in laughter, clutching at his sides as he rolls with mirth in the snow. "I can't believe you tricked me."

"That's what you get for throwing a _rock_ at my face, Kate," he says, the laughter starting to dial back just a little bit, and he swipes at the liquid amusement spilling from his eyes. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Of course not," she grumbles. She does feel pretty awful about it though, and his cheek is raw now, so she leans in to kiss his skin in apology.

One hand comes up to settle between her shoulder blades and he draws her down until she's half on top of him, as much as the bump will allow, and his teeth catch at her bottom lip. It feels more aggressive than she's grown used to, a little like punishment, and she offers him a moan that dissolves into a sigh when his tongue comes to soothe her.

"Maybe we should go inside," he says a little breathlessly, lifting to sit upright and bringing her with him. "Wanna share a bath, have a glass of wine?"

"Oh, yes," she hums, her eyes fluttering closed at the thought of getting warm again. Castle gets to his feet on a groan and reaches for her, helping her to stand and hooking his arm through hers.

They head for the house, stumbling and snow-drunk, clutching at one another like teenagers, and the visible puff of her breath in front of her reminds her of that night almost a year ago, feigning intoxication in an alleyway.

Tugging on his arm to get him to stop, Kate throws her arms around him and goes for his mouth, letting some of that leftover adrenaline make her a little aggressive. Her tongue seeks his, slicking into his mouth, and she turns them in a slow circle as her hands grab at him.

There's no guard to knock unconscious, so their kiss burns itself out naturally and he breaks away from her on a laugh, brushes her hair back out of her face. "Still amazing."

"Yeah," she grins, letting him guide her the last few feet to the house and usher her inside, closing the French door behind them.

Kate hovers at his back as he heads for their master bathroom and turns on the faucet to start filling the tub. He pours a little lotion into the bathtub, tugging off his gloves and dropping them onto the countertop so he can swirl a bare hand in the water and encourage bubbles to foam from the spot where the faucet stream meets the surface.

She busies herself shucking out of her own clothes while Castle lights a few candles and draws the shades, and by the time he's finished she's in only her underwear. Kate throws him a coy little look and he groans, his eyes on her as he peels out of his clothes.

Castle steps out of his boxers and comes for her, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her panties and drawing them down her legs. He offers her a hand and she takes it, stepping into the bathtub and hissing at the scalding lick of the water against her icy toes.

After a moment, it's bearable, and she sinks down to let him climb into the tub behind her and stretch his legs out on either side of hers. An arm comes to draw her body back against his and she goes, letting her heavy head rest against his shoulder.

"This is such a lovely way to warm up."

"Yeah," he says against the shell of her ear, his voice a little gruff as if his larynx is still thawing out. "We should have done this after the freezer."

Kate knocks her temple against her partner's jaw, settling a hand at his thigh underneath the water. It's starting to lap at her navel now and she hums her pleasure, arching her back and groaning as the heat floods her whole body.

She loves baths, but Kate has never shared one with another person before, never wanted to open this space that is so sacred to her to any of her previous partners. The broad stretch of Castle's chest behind her is so comfortable, his arm around her stomach keeping her buoyant, and she wonders if she'll ever enjoy a bath in quite the same way without him in it.

"I forgot the wine," he grumps, and Kate turns her head until her nose bumps against his jaw, arching her neck to open her mouth over the scattered regrowth that blooms there. Her tongue comes out to trace a hot line over his skin and he grunts, fingers flexing uselessly against the skin of her abdomen.

Her arm comes up and she laces her fingers with his over her stomach, scrunching her toes up tight and relaxing them again to see if the feeling has come back to them yet. "We can have wine after the bath. Right now, I just want to doze a little bit."

"We can do that," he nuzzles at her neck, a few little kisses to the thread of her pulse that makes her gasp, her hips rocking shallowly in the water. "Let's doze."


	12. Chapter 12

**Arcadia**

* * *

"Is that your phone?" Castle asks, and Kate wriggles her feet in his lap. After breakfast, she snagged a pair of his thick knitted socks from the drawer, and she can't stop wiggling her toes now, languishing in the warm and cavernous insides of them. Her partner wraps one hand around her foot and tugs a little, snags her attention away from the book in her hands. "Beckett."

"Hmm?"

"Phone?" he says again, and Kate twists at the waist to snag her cell from the end table.

Wrinkling her nose, she turns the phone around to show her partner the caller ID that flashes up. "Do you think we're in trouble?"

"I think you'd better answer it and find out," Castle says, folding the cover of his iPad closed and setting it down in his lap so he can listen in on the conversation.

They're having a lazy morning, and Kate arches her spine and groans as she swipes to answer the call. She had been the first one awake, had clambered out of bed to slat open the blinds and watch the silence of the awakening world. A robin had pecked in the snow, searching for breakfast, and Kate had left him to his work and slid back between the sheets, crawling down the bed with mischief curving her mouth until Castle jerked awake on a gasp.

After they let themselves get thoroughly distracted, they had made brunch together and fed each other strawberries and mouthfuls of pancake, chattering about nothing at all as they ate. It's been a while since she's even bothered with breakfast, but now she's sure that even cereal would be something enjoyable with Castle around.

They shared a shower, her movements unhurried under the rainfall of the dual shower heads. Castle had pushed her back against the tile and she had been a little overwhelmed by the intensity on his face, water and love in his eyes as he stared down at her. Her shoulder blades cry out in tenderness every time she moves now, purpling hematoma blooming either side of her spine, and Castle had pressed careful kisses to her skin as she dried off from her shower.

When they had gotten dressed, a yearning to make progress had panged in her belly, but then Castle had leaned in and kissed her, tangled their fingers and brought her over to the couch with him.

She had fallen right in to the world of the novel he'd put into in her hands and demanded she read, and she'd been tugged back into awareness every so often by the play of Castle's fingers against the sole of her socked foot, but they're existing mostly in separate bubbles this morning.

"Beckett," she says into the phone, feeling a little uncomfortable wearing her detective persona again. It's like a once-loved shirt, shrunken in the wash, and Kate lets her fingers drift across the curve of her stomach in an easy dance.

"Good morning, Detective," her captain's voice comes over the line, and Kate scrunches her nose up. Castle pulls a goofy face at her and she pushes her toes into the soft space underneath his ribcage, poking her tongue out at him.

Her captain is still on the phone, of course, and Kate pulls her feet out of her partner's lap and twists on the couch, curling her legs underneath herself. "Hello Sir. How are things at the precinct?"

"They're fine, thank you Beckett," Gates says, and Kate imagines the captain giving her that look over the desk, finds herself withering even through the phone. "That's not why I'm calling."

"Can I help you with something?" she says, and Castle sits up a little straighter and turns towards her, reaches for the hand not around her cell phone. He plays with her fingers, tracing the ridges of her knuckles with his thumb, and Kate offers him a smile.

Gates clears her throat, and Kate winces preemptively. "Yes, Beckett, you can. The commissioner has shared with me some concerns that you and Mr Castle have grown. . .complacent."

"Complacent, Sir?" she repeats, shifting to lean back against the arm of the couch and flipping her hand under Castle's to lace their fingers together, the first whisperings of alarm beginning in her brain. "In what regard?"

"This is your sixth day undercover, Beckett. And I'm under the impression that you and Mr Castle have made very little progress towards apprehending the killer, or even obtaining proof that there is a killer at all."

Gates' voice rises towards the end of her sentence and Kate gulps, rubbing at the furrow between her eyebrows with two fingers. "We're having to tread carefully, Sir. We can't arouse suspicion."

"Well, we have _actual_ killers here in the city. You know, your real job?"

"Yes Sir."

"You've got the rest of the weekend, Detective Beckett. I want you back in the city on Monday."

"Yes, Sir," Kate says again, and then there's a click as the line goes dead. Twisting around, Kate flops dramatically down on the couch cushions, her head pillowed in Castle's lap. One arm over her eyes, she groans and props her feet on the arm of the sofa, drumming her heels. "She thinks we're being lazy."

Castle's fingers come to the spill of her hair across his thighs and he sifts them through the strands, his other hand against her stomach. "Well, she's not exactly wrong."

"We have a plan, Castle," she huffs, dropping her arm again so that she can see him. She narrows her eyes, her mouth turning down at the corners, and he touches a thumb to the seam of her lips. "I already called Maggie and asked her to teach me how to make those gingerbread cookies from the party."

"Did she agree to share her secret recipe with you?" he asks, fingertips flirting with the neckline of Kate's sweater and dipping underneath to skim over her clavicle.

A little shiver rattles through her and she sits up again, coming to lean against her partner's side instead. Her head rests against the curve of his shoulder and she rubs her nose into the warm skin at his bicep, the cotton of his t-shirt straining around the swell of muscle.

"Yeah. This afternoon. And tomorrow is going to be our last day here. Gates wants us back on Monday."

"She can't just do that," he says, his shoulders squaring, and Kate opens her mouth against the outraged slackness of his jaw, sucks at the thunder of his pulse.

It makes him relax against her and he turns his head in search of her mouth, their lips meeting in a kiss that makes her hum on a sigh and tilt towards his palm at her cheek. When they break apart he lets his forehead rest against hers, only the very edge of his smile visible to her.

"I'm afraid she can. We don't even have any actual evidence that there's a crime here. It's all circumstantial. That's not enough to justify her letting her best detective stay undercover, when she needs me back in the city catching actual killers."

"But the mayor sent us here. Can't he do something?" Castle says, misery transforming him into a child, and Kate touches her thumb to his chin and kisses him again, can't help the grin that wriggles at one corner of her mouth. It blooms into a smile and her partner scowls at her, turns his face away. "Don't laugh at me."

"Sorry," she hums, resting her forehead against Castle's cheek. "You're cute."

He turns back to face her again, sliding an arm around her to let his palm splay at the pregnant curve of her stomach, and he uses that grip to slide Kate into his lap. "Somebody killed those women, Kate. We can't let them go free."

"We won't," she soothes, resting her head against his chest and slipping her fingers up underneath his sweater, fluttering them against the soft skin at his side. "I'll get prints from that remote this afternoon, and you can probe Bill for information while he's here. We're gonna figure this out, and we will get justice."

"I'm not ready to say goodbye to this yet," Castle admits, arranging her so that he can get a palm around the ball of her shoulder, his lips at her temple. "I don't want to go back to the precinct and have to keep my hands off you."

Kate huffs a laugh against the skin of his neck, pinching his side and making him gasp. His hips come up under her and she slides out of his lap, doesn't want to encourage him.

Guilt sits thick and heavy in the bottom of her stomach, because she knows that Gates isn't exactly wrong. They haven't made enough progress, aren't anywhere close to finding their killer, and she really shouldn't be lazing on the couch with her partner while a murderer wanders free.

"We need to do something, Castle. Gates is right. We're not here to read and sleep in and-"

"Have loads of hot, amazing sex?" he offers, and Kate buries her face in her hands and squeaks out a giddy noise, her body still loose and a little achy from this morning.

Peeking at him from over the tops of her fingertips, Kate catches the leer that arcs his mouth, those happy little creases at the corners of his eyes, and she presses her palms against her eyes because even just the dishevelled, fuzzy-bear sight of him makes her want to climb back into his lap.

"That's my point. Not that it's not wonderful, but it's not why we're here. We need to solve this case, so we can get back to our real lives."

"You're right," he agrees, and when she dares to look at him again he's got his hands folded together and trapped between his knees, the picture of innocence. "We need a solid plan."

A growl rumbles low in the base of her throat and Kate rakes a hand through her hair. It catches on a little snaggle and she yanks accidentally, the sharp flare of pain making her eyes water and a breath hiss through her teeth.

"I don't know what we're going to do. We can't make a move without blowing our cover, and that would be if we even had somebody to make a move _on_."

"You can make a move on me any time," Castle smirks, waggling his eyebrows at her, but at the thunder that rolls across her face he shows her his palms, recoils a little. "Hey, hey, alright. We're gonna figure this out, Beckett. We got this."

"I don't know that we do," she says, covering her mouth with a hand to keep the choke of emotion trapped safely inside. "We've made friends here, Castle. I don't want them to be disappointed. I don't want anybody else to die."

Castle grapples for her free hand and knots their fingers together, lifts the joined clasp of their hands to his mouth so he can kiss the hard edges of each of her knuckles. "Nobody else is going to die. Are you forgetting what a great team we make? We've solved tougher cases than this."

"I guess," she says, a little wetly, and she lets Castle drape an arm around her shoulders and draw her in against his side. "I just really don't want to let anybody down."

"Beckett, please," he huffs, nuzzling his nose against her hairline. "I'm pretty sure you're genetically incapable of letting anyone down."

His unwavering faith in her makes Kate smile in spite of herself and she tangles her fingers with his where his hand dangles down over her shoulder, her thumb pressing into the meat of his palm. "What are we gonna do?"

"We've got a plan, right? It's a reckless one, but it's still a plan. So how about we just enjoy ourselves until you have to go to Maggie's later? Since it's going to be our last chance to bask in this amazing house."

"Okay, fine," she hums, draping her legs over his thighs. He hooks an arm around them, fingers working their way into the creases behind her knees. "What do you want to do?"

Castle brushes her hair back away from her neck, over her opposite shoulder, and his open mouth descends to suck at her pale skin, his tongue flicking out against the thrum of her pulse. "I've got some ideas."

"Oh, I can't," she moans, fingernails digging into his thigh. His teeth graze at the place where her jaw meets her neck and she gasps, dropping her head to rest heavily at his shoulder and closing her eyes tight. "Castle, I need time. God, this morning- I'm not ready to go again just yet."

"Okay," he says, finally removing his mouth from her skin and uncurling his arm from around her as well, hardly making contact with her at all now. "Well, what would you like to do. What do you even do when you're not at the precinct?"

That makes a flush rise in her cheeks and she swallows away the dryness in her mouth, working her tongue over her teeth. "Well these days, I mostly spend time with you. You know, dinner or seeing a movie, or some new amazing thing you've found that you just have to show me."

"Right, our dates," he says easily, his shoulders wiggling in delight.

"They're dates?" she knows exactly what he's doing, but what the hell. She'll bite.

"Spending time outside of work, just the two of us? I think so," he shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but a smile grows at one corner of his mouth.

Drawing her legs up onto the couch, Kate sits sideways to face her partner and sweeps her hair over one shoulder, twisting one of the longer strands around and around her finger. "Well then yes. Our dates. Apart from that, it's mostly just errands and working out. Reading. I meet my dad for brunch sometimes."

"I guess you can't really go for a run here, can you," he laughs, settling a hand at her bump. "We could go for a walk though? Enjoy the snow some more."

"That sounds good," she smiles, standing up from the couch and tugging her sweater down. It's gotten a little rucked up around her waist, and she smoothes it over the baby bump. She's wearing leggings today and they're wrinkling around her knees, but they're comfortable and she can't be bothered to change until she has to head over to Maggie's later.

"Alright then," Castle says, getting to his feet and heading to their bedroom to put his iPad away in the nightstand drawer. He comes back to her in the living room, where she's been worrying the edge of her cell phone with her thumb, working the nail into the space between the cover and the phone itself over and over.

Castle's hand comes to envelop hers and he eases the phone out of her grip, sliding it into the pocket of his jeans. "Don't feel guilty, Kate."

"I let myself get too comfortable here. Forgot that we've got a job to do. What kind of cop does that make me?"

"A human one," he says, hooking his arm through hers and leading her towards the laundry room so they can put their coats on while they have this conversation. "Kate, you got shot only a few months ago. It's okay to take some time to relax. You almost gave your life for this job."

Shucking her way into her coat, Kate fastens the buttons and reaches for her hat as well. Castle hands her a scarf and some gloves one after the other, a hand at her elbow to help her keep her balance as she steps into her rubber boots.

"You gonna be warm enough?" he asks, easing her hair out from where it's gotten trapped beneath her scarf. Kate sinks to sit on the bench, the wooden slats digging into the backs of her thighs through the thin cotton of her leggings, and she watches her partner as he puts on his own coat.

"I'm fine. Don't you need a sweater?"

"Nah," he shrugs his shoulders inside of his leather jacket, holding out a hand to her. She takes it, although she doesn't exactly need his help to get to her feet, and she lets him keep a tight hold on her gloved fingers as he unlocks the back door.

"I should have worked harder," she says when they make it down the steps and onto the path, the snow still pristine underfoot. The roads have been gritted now, the icy slush scraped away to leave them like raw wounds, but the sidewalks are still blanketed.

At her side Castle is quiet for a moment, his cheeks already wind-chapped, and Kate ducks her chin down into the warmth of her scarf. Her thighs prickle with the cold and Kate picks up a little bit more speed, practically dragging her partner along beside her.

"It's my fault. I'm the one who keeps distracting you."

"No," she says immediately, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He's staring at the ground, the matching strides of her rubber boots and his sneakers, and she nudges her elbow into his arm to have him look at her. "Not your fault. Haven't I initiated things just as much as you have?"

"Yes, but-"

Kate squeezes his hand in hers and then lets go, hooking her arm through his instead. Partly to tuck herself in against the warmth of him, but mostly so that he can feel her body close to his and know that she doesn't blame him. "Castle, this is not on you. I know how badly you want to solve this case."

"I really do," he says, his voice a little gruff, and he brings them to a stop for just a moment. His gloved hands come up to frame her face and he leans in to kiss her. She can hardly feel it, her face so chilled that she's mostly numb, but she does feel the nudge of his nose against her cheek and she smiles.

"Let's just enjoy our walk," she says, tugging back from him and reaching for his hand again. "Do you know how you're going to distract Bill yet?"

Castle huffs a laugh, herding her off the sidewalk and into the street so they can let three kids through, a massive snowball rolling ahead of them and leaving a deep trough in the snow. Once the children move past they step back up onto the pavement, Kate's boots leaving perfect footprints as Castle walks in the worn-away place the snowball has left.

"I was going to flush a sock down the toilet and hope it caused a flood."

"Don't you think that he'll question why there's a sock in the plumbing system?" she cocks an eyebrow at him, neatly sidestepping an icy patch. Her partner is less fortunate and his feet skid on the frozen ground, his mouth in a round O as his body careens.

Grabbing for him, Kate gets her palms at his elbows to keep him upright, taking the weight of his body. She staggers, but they both remain upright and she slides her arms around his waist and steps in as close as the bump will allow.

"You good?" she asks, and Castle huffs a breath against the crown of her head.

Untangling himself from around her, he squares his shoulders and slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans, darting a glance around them to make sure that nobody saw. "Yeah. Good. And the sock thing."

That makes her laugh at the absurdity of her life. For a moment, the fact that her partner is _Richard Castle_ , world famous novelist, hits her like a fist to the gut and she can only stare at him in slack awe. And then he creases his face up in self-deprecation and he's Castle again, goofy partner and best friend.

Settling a hand in the crook of his elbow, she starts walking again and Castle jogs a half step to catch up, the length of his stride carefully matched to hers. "The sock thing."

"Well, I figure it doesn't really matter, does it? We're going home on Monday, it's not like I'll have to face him again after that."

"That's true," Kate says, making the decision for them both and turning left at the end of the block. One of the women from the mother's group approaches them, a labrador straining on the end of the leash in her hand, and she stops to greet Kate and her partner.

Castle shakes Cathy's hand and introduces himself, bending down to scratch behind the dog's ears. He gets a lick to the face and Cathy gasps, yanking on the leash to tug the dog back. "Hugo, no! No licking."

"It's okay," Castle laughs, his palm underneath the dog's chin, and Hugo rubs his muzzle against Castle's hand. "I love dogs. I don't mind."

"I'm so sorry," Cathy says, her cheeks pink with mortification, and Kate lets a hand fall to the top of her partner's shoulder. "It's the snow. It makes him overexcited."

Getting to his feet again, Castle rests a palm at the base of Kate's spine and laughs, shrugging his shoulders in boyish amusement. "Well, I can relate to that. I dragged Kate out with me so we could enjoy it before it turns to slush."

"As long as you're keeping her warm, Rick," Cathy says sternly. The dog butts his head against Castle's thigh, hard enough to make him take a step closer to Kate, and she uses the opportunity to lean back against her partner.

"Don't worry. He's taking good care of me."

Cathy cracks a smile at that and tugs on the end of the leash, pulling Hugo away from his inspection of Castle's knee. "I'm glad to hear that. It's just so good to have another happy young couple in our midst. Now you guys be sure to call if you need anything, okay?"

"Thank you, we will," Castle says, hooking two fingers into the pocket of Kate's coat and drawing her in close against his side.

"We'd better finish our walk," Cathy says, tugging on the leash until Hugo heels. "It was so wonderful to bump into you two. Have a truly fantastic day."

"You too," Kate calls out as Cathy walks away, sharing a look with her partner. Castle stares at her for a beat of silence and then he laughs, shaking his head in bewilderment. "I know. She's. . .something."

A dramatic shudder makes Castle's whole body vibrate and he grapples for her hand, brings her with him as he starts walking again. "So creepy. Can you imagine her picking up Hugo's mess?"

"Not in a million years," Kate snorts, the paw prints that weave chaotically along the sidewalk making her smile. "You wouldn't have survived the mothers' group. They're all like that, except Alice."

"Wow," Castle whistles a low note, their clasped hands swinging between their bodies. He ebbs and flows with her, sometimes pressed right up against her side and sometimes the full span of their arms between them, but he never untangles himself. "I'm amazed you lived through the enthusiasm."

Her skin is starting to itch a little at her forehead, where her woollen beanie meets her skin, and she moves to adjust it. With only one hand free she winds up making it lopsided, one side falling down to cover her eye, and she huffs and tries to push it back up again.

"Just take your hand back," Castle laughs, letting go of her fingers so that she has both hands free to straighten her hat, pushing it a little higher up her forehead so it doesn't itch. The newly revealed skin immediately aches with the cold and she grumbles, pulls off one glove so she can scrub her fingertips against her forehead. "It won't hurt my feelings."

"Good," she huffs. Kate leaves her glove off, tugging its twin off too and putting them both into her pocket. She reaches for his hand and tucks her fingers up against his paw. Castle buries their joined hands in the depth of his jacket pocket and Kate slides her other down into the pocket of her own coat.

"Hey," Castle says after a few moments of walking in silence together, turning his head to look at her for just a second. He's keeping his eyes firmly on the sidewalk, careful not to slip again, and so Kate doesn't even have to turn her face away to stop him from seeing the secret melt of her smile. "Maybe we should get a dog."

"A dog?" she repeats, both eyebrows arcing up towards her hairline now.

He shrugs, almost dislodging their hands from his pocket, and he smiles like a little kid. "Yeah. I mean, we're already married and having a baby. We gotta get a dog, to complete the domestic trifecta."

"Riiight," she says slowly. "You know that none of this is real?"

"I know," he grumbles at her, his mouth turning down at the corners. "But it could be. Someday. Maybe we could start with the dog. Instead of jumping right to a baby."

"Where would it live?" she says gently, not wanting to throw a pebble into the pond of his dreaming and send ripples scattering across the surface. But likewise, she's not about to let him topple in headfirst and sink down into drowning. "We can't just shuffle a dog back and forth between our apartments. A dog needs a steady, stable home."

He opens his mouth to respond, and ice water cascades down the ladder of her spine. These past six days with him have been wonderful, but she's not ready to move in just yet, and she doesn't want to break his heart by turning him down.

Something in the hard pinch of her face must clue him in, because he shakes his head as if to clear the thought and musters an easy smile for her. "Well, I didn't necessarily mean right away. Just something to work towards."

"What kind of dog?"

"A big one," he says immediately, the light coming back into his eyes again. "Something wolfish. A husky maybe, or at least a husky mix. Something majestic and graceful. Nothing you'd be embarrassed walking."

She laughs at that, can't imagine herself with a chihuahua on the end of the leash, but a big dog. A big dog that she co-parents with Castle, one that will crawl up onto the couch with them and rest a heavy head in her lap. "What about a German Shepherd, something like that? They're beautiful, and loyal."

"Sure," he says easily, his shoulders wiggling with delight. "I don't really care, as long as I can teach it cool tricks. And I bet even a Dachshund would look badass if you were the one walking it."

"I'm not sure about that," she laughs. "But maybe one with some stamina. I could take it on my runs with me. Wear it out."

Castle's grin is infectious and he smudges a clumsy kiss to her cheek as they walk, making her stumble into him. His arm slides smoothly around her waist and he waits for her to find her balance again, gives her a little squeeze before he lets go.

"Unless you want me to get you a puppy for Christmas, I'm gonna need you to stop feeding the fantasy," he says, and although laughter hums at the corner of his mouth his voice is deep and sincere.

"Oh, God," she gasps, turning wide eyes towards him and sinking her teeth into her bottom lip for a moment. The cold patina of panic settles over her and she fists her free hand in his lapel to make him stop walking. "Are we doing gifts?"

He arcs an eyebrow at her, tilting his head. "Gifts?"

"For Christmas. Castle, we've only been together for two full days," she tries not to wail. "We can't- it's too much pressure."

"Oh," he deflates, turning half away from her and rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, a wince tugging at the lines of his face and making his lips thin out. "I already got you a gift."

"You did?"

"Yeah," he says quietly, still not looking at her. "You're my partner. My best friend. Of course I got you a Christmas gift. Weeks ago, actually. But I can. . .I'll keep it for next year."

Kate chokes out a desperate noise and winds her arms around his neck, her nose buried against the warmth of his throat. That one cold point of contact makes him yelp, but he doesn't try to tug away from her, doesn't do anything except fist a hand in her coat, between her shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry, Rick. I had no idea we were doing gifts. You should have said something."

"Hey, it's okay," he soothes, free hand settling at the curve of her skull to keep her close against him. "I guess before this happened, when we were just waiting, it might have been too much."

"No," she breaks away to look at him, a ridiculous clog of emotion forcing her to focus on the work of air through her lungs for a moment. "No, I love this. You are so sweet."

"So can I give you your gift?"

Shaking her head on a laugh, Kate ducks her head and jams her hat down tight on her head again, tucking the tops of her ears under the wool. "Sure you can. As long as it's not a dog."

"It's not," he beams, starting to walk again. A little faster than before, as if he needs an outlet for the thrum of nervous energy that burns through him, and Kate lets herself get dragged along at his side. "And don't worry about not getting me anything. My gift can be getting to give you yours."

"Okay," she laughs, but already she's plotting ideas for things to get him. Hoping that she'll have enough time to sneak away and buy him a gift once they're back in the city. "Well, for the record, I'm still sorry."

Castle lets her go for long enough to yank his glove off, reaching for her hand again, and the warm meat of his palm meets her own cool skin and clings tight. "Don't be sorry. Getting to be with you is the only Christmas gift I really would have asked for anyway."


	13. Chapter 13

**Arcadia**

* * *

"Is that too much flour?" Kate wrinkles her nose, Maggie hovering over her shoulder to watch her work.

When she arrived at Maggie and Bill's home earlier this afternoon, she had been flustered and a little frantic, and it wasn't entirely for show. Castle had flushed a sock down the toilet in one of the upstairs bathrooms and it had almost immediately overflowed, water spilling out over the rim of the bowl.

He hadn't bothered trying to sop it up, had instead perched on the edge of the bathtub and cackled with delight. Kate rolled her eyes and came in to kiss his cheek, sidestepping the water all over the floor. At the last moment he had turned his head and caught her mouth instead, his kiss warm and full up with joy, and he had whispered a farewell to her.

The moment Kate got here she had asked Bill to help, and he had left to go and assist Castle with their plumbing crisis. It's just her and Maggie in the house now, and all Kate can do is bide her time until there's an opportunity to sneak into the study and find those keys.

"It's not too much, dear," Maggie says, shaking the bowl so that the mountain of flour in the middle disperses. "Go ahead, add the rest of the dry ingredients."

Kate swipes her flour-pale fingers against the apron tied high around her waist, brushing the wispy hairs out of her face with the back of her hand. The whole riotous mess of curls is piled up on top of her head, but a few strands keep coming down and getting into her eyes.

She measures out teaspoons of baking powder, baking soda and salt, adding the ginger and cinnamon for flavour, and then Kate turns to look at Maggie in question. It's not like she's never made cookies before, but part of her cover today is that she's eager to learn, so she's letting Maggie hold her hand through each step. Even if it does make her want to roll her eyes.

"Alright, whisk those together," Maggie says, handing Kate the manual balloon whisk. It's a vibrant teal, like many of Maggie's other kitchen utensils, and the splash of happy colour makes Kate smile as she takes the whisk from her neighbour.

Maggie leaves her side for a moment as Kate mixes the ingredients, flicking on the vintage style radio to let music flood the kitchen. The song is one she's been hearing constantly these past few weeks, and every time it makes Castle scowl and mutter about how new Christmas songs just can't compete with the old classics.

"Do you like Justin Bieber, Maggie?" Kate laughs, shaking her head as the teen heartthrob warbles away on the radio.

Her neighbour shares in Kate's amusement, shaking her head in mirth. "I'm not well acquainted, to be quite honest. But I imagine that if I was fifty years younger I'd be rather smitten. He's rather like this generation's Elvis, with all those girls swooning over him."

"Oh, don't let Rick hear you saying that," Kate winces, setting the whisk down now that she's done mixing together the dry ingredients. "He can't stand him. And I'm quite inclined to agree. He's a bit of a brat."

"I'll be sure not to bring him up around your husband," Maggie laughs, reaching around Kate to plug the KitchenAid mixer into the mains. It's the same blue as the hand whisk, and a pang of jealousy comes to life in Kate's stomach.

There's neither a reason for her to need such a snazzy piece of equipment, nor any time in her hectic schedule to actually use it, but she hopes that things will be different someday. That she'll share her mother's recipe for Christmas cookies with her own child, the little one perched on the countertop and drumming their heels against the cabinets.

Castle would buy her one in a heartbeat, would be delighted with the idea that Kate wants to cook, but she stores that away for later. Maybe a few Christmases from now, she'll drop some not so subtle hints.

"Alright, now you need to beat the butter, brown sugar and that egg until they're well blended," Maggie says, holding the measuring cup under the stream of the faucet to rinse off the flour and drying it with a paper towel before she passes it over to Kate.

An older Christmas song comes on the radio and Maggie's whole face lights up, her smile shaving away years so that Kate sees the young woman in her. She starts to sing, her voice clear and smooth, and Kate finds herself humming along as well while she measures out the ingredients.

"Sorry," Kate says, turning on the mixer and momentarily drowning out the radio. It doesn't stop Maggie from singing as she keeps a careful watch over Kate. Once everything is well blended Kate turns the mixer off again and twists to look at Maggie, a smile curving at her mouth. "How's that?"

"Great. Now add the molasses and vanilla."

She measures everything out carefully, some girlish part of her eager to impress Maggie, and she mixes everything again, humming to herself as the KitchenAid works.

"Okay," Maggie says when she's done, rummaging in one of the cabinets until she comes back with a zester. "My secret ingredient. A teaspoon of lemon zest."

"Really? Wow," Kate grins, taking the lemon and the zester from Maggie and setting to work. "You know, I knew there was something in those cookies. Rick and I debated for a while, but we couldn't figure it out."

Maggie laughs, shaking her head, and she holds the teaspoon steady for Kate to measure out the right amount of zest. "Don't tell him, dear. Not yet. You can take these cookies home with you and surprise him, see if he can figure it out this time."

"I will," she shares a conspiratorial grin with her neighbour. "It'll drive him nuts that I know and he doesn't."

Kate adds the lemon zest to the bowl and mixes it through, huffing a breath to try and blow the baby hairs out of her eyes. The smell of the dough curls up to meet her and Kate hums, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

"Do I add the dry ingredients now?"

"Yes," Maggie says, putting the KitchenAid on a lower setting so that the mixer attachment moves lazily through the bowl. "Do it gradually so that you don't get any pockets of flour."

She does as she's told, the dough thickening as she pours more and more of the dry ingredient mixture into the bowl. Once it's all blended through and the dough is smooth, Maggie turns off the KitchenAid and unplugs it from the mains, freeing the bowl from the machine.

"Alright, now we need to split the dough and cover it with Saran wrap," Maggie says, collecting the roll of plastic wrap from the cabinet and cutting off two pieces. After Kate has divided the dough she holds each piece to let Maggie wrap it up tight, and then she sets them back down on the counter. "They need to stand at room temperature for at least two hours now. Well, up to eight is preferable, but two will suffice."

"I can go and come back later?" Kate offers, although the thought of leaving this house without having made a single step forward in the case has a tide of guilt rolling over her. "I don't want to be in your hair."

"Actually dear, I was hoping you would stay," Maggie says quietly, suddenly unable to meet Kate's eyes. "I was hoping. . .that we could talk about my son."

It takes her by surprise and Kate presses a hand over her heart, offering her neighbour a small smile. "I'd be honoured to hear more about him. Let me just clean this up."

They work in tandem to tidy the kitchen, loading everything into the dishwasher, and Kate cleans her hands while Maggie starts the machine. Upstairs, Maggie leads her to the guest room and kneels down in front of the closet, freeing an ornate box from the shelves and coming back to Kate with it in her arms.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Maggie gestures to one of the armchairs underneath the window and Kate sinks to sit, crossing one leg over the other and settling both hands at her stomach.

Maggie sits in the other chair and sets the box down on the table between them, flipping the latch to open it. "This is where I keep all of his things. Mementos, you know?"

"I do," Kate nods. Under her bed at her apartment, Kate has a shoebox filled with letters that her mother sent when Beckett was in college, birthday cards. A bottle of her mother's perfume that overwhelms her every time she catches the scent, thousands of memories swarming.

It's not like she can share any of that with Maggie, or let her know that Kate is living with a loss of her own, but she hopes that Maggie can sense that companionship from her.

"This is the day David was born," she says, pulling a photograph free from the box and handing it to Kate. It's a little faded, the paper soft with being handled over and over again, but the image is clear. Maggie sits up in bed, wearing a floral nightgown, and a red-faced little person peers up at his mother, just visible inside the swaddling blanket.

Fierce yearning comes alive in Kate's chest and she breathes slowly, careful not to make a noise. She longs to have this someday, to have Castle grinning at her from behind the camera and arranging her and their baby just so, making sure the photograph is perfect.

"He's lovely," Kate says quietly, handing the picture back over to Maggie. The box is full to the brim, and Kate touches two fingers to her smile. Her father was absent when it came time to sort through her mother's things, so Kate had been alone when she discovered her own baby box.

Her mother kept everything, every keepsake and indecipherable drawing, even her baby teeth in a little container. She had cried on the floor of her parent's bedroom, the box next to her knees and her heart aching with grief. Johanna loved her so much, and it wasn't like she never let Kate know it, but seeing it there quantifiable in front of her had been overwhelming.

Castle probably has something like this for Alexis. Knowing him, he's got crates full of his daughter's belongings, and she wonders if he'll let her see it someday. Maybe go through it and share with Kate the stories of his baby girl, all the stages of her life layered in the box like the rings of a tree.

Kate forces herself to pay attention to Maggie, accepting each item from the box that she hands over and listening intently to the stories attached. Kate is well practiced at this, has spent time with the families of countless victims and heard them talk about their lost loved one, built a picture of what the victim was like from their words.

It's different like this, and she has to be careful not to slip into her detective persona. She doesn't probe for more information, just murmurs her encouragement as Maggie tells her the story of David's life. His mother's words are perhaps a little biased, but from the sound of it Bill and Maggie's son was a pretty wonderful guy.

By the time they make it to the bottom of the box Maggie is crying, silent tears sliding down her cheeks as she gets closer to the end of David's life. The last picture in the box is an engagement photograph, the young woman in his arms beautiful and radiant with happiness.

"They never made it to the wedding," Maggie says, not bothering to swipe at her cheeks, and she traces her son's face with the edge of her thumb. "The accident was two weeks after this picture was taken."

"I am so sorry for your loss," Kate says gently, reaching for Maggie's hand and enveloping it in both of hers. Maggie's skin is cool and paper-thin, and Kate searches for her neighbour's eyes. "I'm going to go to the bathroom, and then I'll wait downstairs for you. Give you a moment alone."

Maggie manages a smile through the twist of grief at her mouth and she nods, taking her hand back from Kate. "Thank you, dear. I won't be too long."

"Take as much time as you need," Kate says, standing up from her armchair. She arches her back, pressing a hand firmly against the curve of her spine. After so long in the same position she's aching, and liquid heat pours over every vertebrae from the nape of her neck and spreads out across the flare of her hips.

She pads down the stairs, ducking into the office and closing the door behind herself. Adrenaline thumps, heady and thick at the base of her throat, and Kate hurries through each drawer. In the bottom drawer, she discovers a false back and pops it open, hooking her fingers inside to tug the keys out.

Her coat is draped over the couch in the study and she rummages in the pocket until she comes up with the little tub of fingerprint powder. Kate hurries for the kitchen, her heart frantic agains the cage of her ribs, and she feels it chirp like a songbird in warning.

There's no sound from upstairs, and Kate bends over the sink and dusts the powder over the fob for the garage door openers. She photographs them with her cell phone, forwarding the pictures to Esposito to have him run the prints.

It would be so much easier if she could just take the keys, but even though they're leaving she doesn't want to make Maggie or Bill suspicious. Kate pours a little dish soap onto a cloth and rubs at the powder until it comes away, the keys pristine again.

Dumping the cloth in the sink, she heads back for the office to put the keys away in the drawer again. The false back of the drawer makes a clattering noise when she fixes it in place and Kate freezes, her heart squeezing up into her throat.

Footsteps wander above her head and Kate closes the drawer and gets to her feet, hurrying to put the powder away in her coat pocket. She makes it to the door of the office just as Maggie reaches the bottom of the stairs and she smiles, her hands at her stomach so the trembling doesn't give her away.

"Feeling better?"

"What were you doing in there?" Maggie says sharply, her eyes narrowing, and Kate is so grateful that she and Castle hashed this out before she left earlier.

Her answer is smooth, believable, and she turns over her shoulder to glance back into the study again. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have snooped. It's just that your house has the same layout as mine, and I was interested to see what you'd done with the space."

"Oh," Maggie says flatly, but her eyes don't move away from their scrutiny of Kate's face. Beckett swallows, her smile wavering a little, but Maggie seems to decide that it's not worth pushing the issue further. "Let's have some tea while we let the dough rest some more."

Kate follows her neighbour into the kitchen, so stupidly grateful that their cover doesn't seem to be blown just yet. She sits at the breakfast table, leaning against the back of the chair to watch Maggie moving easily around the kitchen, settling the kettle on the stovetop to boil.

"What's this?" she asks, lifting the cloth that Kate used on the fingerprint powder out of the sink and holding it up for her to see.

"I was wiping down the countertops ready to roll out the dough," Kate stumbles a little over the lie, frustrated with herself for leaving such an obvious trail.

Gates is right, being here has made her complacent. Being with Castle makes her feel invulnerable, as if nothing can possibly harm her when she has somebody who loves her so very much. Their plan is reckless, and the dark fingers of panic tiptoe up the ladder of her spine and sink into the base of her skull. She tries to look casual, smoothing a hand over the curve of her pregnant stomach.

"They're still dirty," Maggie says slowly, swiping the tip of one finger over the countertop and showing it to Kate. The pad of it is ghostly with flour and her face is alarmingly blank. "What's going on?"

"Pregnancy brain," Kate laughs, shaking her head at herself. It takes a considerable effort not to squirm in her chair. "I guess I started cleaning and then forgot what I was doing. It's been happening a lot these days."

Maggie sets the cloth down into the sink again and collects mugs from the cabinet, two decaffeinated teabags from the ceramic caddy. "Well. I'm happy for you to look around the house dear, but it would be better if I could give you a tour myself."

"Of course," Kate says, nibbling at the corner of her bottom lip. "I'm sorry. I forgot to go to the bathroom too, excuse me."

She heads for the powder room just off the kitchen and closes the door behind herself, bracing her hands against the sink and leaning over it, her head bowed. Kate takes a couple of cleansing breaths, the kind her physical therapist taught her to use when she couldn't stand up straight around the hole in her chest.

Flicking on the faucet, she lets the cool stream run against her wrists and then presses them against the sides of her neck. Her phone buzzes in the back pocket of her jeans and she pulls it free to read the message.

 _Not in the system_ , Esposito has messaged her, but she isn't exactly surprised. She wasn't truthfully expecting to get a hit on the prints, but it's still disappointing. Beckett sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, suddenly wanting to go home.

And not back to the house. She misses the city, misses her badge and her gun and her authority, and she's so tired of failing over and over again.

She flushes the toilet just for show, washes her hands and heads back to the kitchen, gratefully accepting the cup of tea that Maggie hands to her. They sit at the breakfast table together, but an uncomfortable silence swamps them and Kate knows that she's broken Maggie's trust.

Her tea has a strangely bitter taste to it and she wrinkles her nose, works her tongue around her mouth to try and catch that sharpness again, figure out what it reminds her of.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh," she glances up at Maggie and smiles, shaking her head. "No, nothing. Just tastes a little funny."

Maggie clicks her tongue in sympathy. "I remember when I was pregnant with David, my tastebuds were all mixed up the entire time. Everything tasted strange."

A retort is on the very tip of her tongue, and she comes dangerously close to explainingim that that can't be it because she isn't really pregnant. And for once, not faking the symptoms either. It's probably just the adrenaline, or a different brand of tea than she's used to, so Kate shrugs her shoulders and takes another sip.

* * *

After the cookies bake and have had time to cool on the wire rack, Maggie teaches her how to mix frosting at the right consistency to be easily piped, the cookies coming to life now that they have faces and clothes. She feels a little strange, a buzzing in her ears that makes her blink hard and shake her head.

She passes it off as exhaustion - she and Castle have not done a whole lot of sleeping recently - and she tries to focus on what Maggie is saying, even though it's a concentrated effort to even be able to hear her.

A sweat breaks out at her temples and she cants forward against the counter, her whole body suddenly weak and trembling. She's fainted before, a couple of times in the summer when the pain got too much, when she pushed herself too hard in her therapy exercises. This strange tipping is just the same, and she braces her palms against the countertop.

"Are you alright, dear?" Maggie says, settling a hand and Kate's shoulder and frowning at her.

It takes her a second and Kate has to breathe raggedly through her nose, her lungs struggling to work now. Panic clutches at her and her heart pounds, an awful fog of confusion rolling over her. "No. I don't feel so good suddenly."

"Would you like to sit down?"

"I think- I'm gonna head home," Kate says, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead and closing her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Maggie's fingers hover awkwardly at Kate's bicep, as if she thinks that Kate might fall right over. "I'll walk you, dear. Let me get your coat."

Bending over the counter, Kate props her head in her hands and breathes raggedly through her nose, the air whistling as it leaves her throat. The touch of a hand between her shoulder blades makes her jerk and she straightens, taking her coat from Maggie.

"You don't need to walk with me, I'm alright. It's only a block away."

"Alright dear," Maggie shrugs, unlocking the back door and tugging it open so that Kate can leave the house. "I hope you feel better really soon. I'll bring some cookies over for you tomorrow and see how you are."

Kate turns over her shoulder to look at Maggie, managing a smile that feels closer to a grimace. "Thank you. And thanks for this afternoon."

"Any time," Maggie says, but a shadow rolls across her face just before she closes the door, the smile sliding right down her face like a melting waxwork.

The wooziness grows as she walks, the lines of the curb all coalescing together so that Kate topples off the sidewalk and rolls her ankle. She yelps, but her voice is curiously absent. The baby kicks in her belly, bubbling, and then her stomach rolls right over.

Her mouth floods with saliva and Kate moans, but the house is right there and she stumbles up the steps. Her fingers are clumsy around the door handle and it takes her a couple of tries to get it, but she manages to turn it and spill inside their home.

"Cas-" she calls, and that curious ringing in her ears sets her entirely off balance. She goes down to her knees in the foyer, bending double until her forehead meets the cool and lovely press of the hardwood, and Kate breathes raggedly through her nose.

There's a crack, and a hand comes to the back of her neck. "Kate? What are you doing on the floor? What's the matter?"

"Something's wrong," she whispers, hands clawing uselessly against the ground. Castle scoops her up and she groans, being upright making her ears ring louder. Her head rolls against her partner's chest and she searches for the hornet swarm, peering through one eye.

He's saying something, she can feel the work of his jaw, but she has to close her eyes and grit her teeth to hear what it is. The roots of her molars are rotting, aching, and she whimpers. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Kate grapples for air, her lungs crying out in her chest, and her breathing is somehow rapid and deep all at once. She wheezes, her mouth open and gulping, and Castle pushes the hair back out of her face and rocks her.

"Something in my drink," she whispers, her head too heavy for her neck. "Tasted funny. M'tired."

"No," he says immediately, shifting her in his arms so that he can see her face. She's glad for that, because her ears are just not working anymore, and she hears him as if from far away, through a crackly connection. But at least she can read his lips. "You can't sleep. No sleeping. Stay with me."

Her stomach roils and she moans, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "Gonna get sick."

"Let's get you to the bathroom," he says, getting to his feet and bringing her with him. She topples, falling hard against the wall of her partner's body, and he gets his palms underneath her elbows to stop her from clattering back to the ground again.

Kate clings to his arm, her head still laying at his shoulder as they walk. She smashes into the doorframe, breath escaping her in a huff, and Castle makes a little noise of alarm. The situation with her stomach suddenly becomes urgent and she rushes for the bathroom, dropping to the floor just in time.

"Okay, you're okay," Castle soothes as she gags, emptying her stomach into the toilet bowl. His palm presses to her forehead and he frowns, smoothing her hair back out of her face. "You're burning up, Kate. What should I do?"

"Castle," she wails, slumping against the wall. Her brain is struggling through molasses, everything jumbled, and she grapples for her partner's hand. She presses it to her stomach, both of her own slender hands covering his, and she screws her eyes closed. "Castle, the baby. The baby. Don't let anything happen."

He pulls his hand back and pushes her hair out of her face again, shifting until he's on his knees next to her. Castle ducks to find her eyes and she blinks at him, her skull rolling against the wall. "Kate, what do you mean? There is no baby."

" _No_ ," she says on a sob, their child shifting in her belly. A little foot comes to her ribcage and she cries out. "Don't let our baby die, Rick, _please_."

"Okay," he soothes, sliding his arm around her shoulders until she's half in his lap. "Okay, okay. I won't let anything happen to the baby. Can you lift your head up for me?"

She tries, she really does, but her neck is limp and her brain is stuffed with cement and she groans instead, her ears full up with static. "Can't."

"I'm gonna call an ambulance," her partner says, shifting her in his lap until he can tug his cell phone free from his pocket. He's talking above her, giving their address to the control room, but she can't hear him at all now and she stares down the length of her own body.

Her legs are shaking, clattering, and her knees knock hard together. "Castle. Help me. Please."

"You're okay," he murmurs, lifting her until she's a little more upright. Her head rolls, forehead meeting the curve of his neck, and she runs her tongue over her teeth. "Want some water?"

"Yeah," she murmurs. Castle moves as if to shift her off his lap and she cries out, fisting a hand in the fabric of his shirt. "Don't leave me."

His lips come to her forehead and he cups a hand over her ear; it makes the ringing settle and she sags against his chest. "Your heart is pounding, Kate. I can feel it."

"Hurts," she sobs, a fist taking hold of her stomach and twisting hard, and she scrambles her way out of his lap and leans over the toilet bowl again.

The doorbell rings and Castle touches a hand to her back, his thumb circling. "That'll be the ambulance. I'll be right back, sweetheart. Just try and stay awake okay."

The retching subsides and Kate slumps against the wall again, listening to Castle's footsteps pad away from her. The static buzz in her ears swarms again and she moans, pressing a hand over her eyes. The EMTs come swarming into the bathroom, already hurrying to check her vital signs, and she reaches for her partner's hand and clutches at it.

"I don't want to die," she chokes out, and Castle's fingers squeeze hers, his voice somehow right next to her ear. "Don't let me die."

"You're not going to die," Castle says firmly, trying to stay out of the way of the paramedics and close beside her all at once. They're pulling her shirt down, trying to get the adhesive pads stuck to her chest, and then there's a beat where nobody moves.

"Is this. . .a fake stomach?" one of the EMTs asks, and Castle huffs a breath of anxious laughter.

His arm still around her so that her head can rest in the crook of his elbow, he winces and tears his gaze away from her to look at the paramedics instead. "Yeah. It's a long story."

"We're gonna have to cut it off," one of the guys says, and then the cool touch of metal comes to her hipbone and slides all the way up. The suit peels apart and she closes her eyes because her vision is doubling, and she doesn't need to see six anxious faces peering at her instead of three.

"You still with me?" Castle says quietly, but she can only manage a grunt in response.

Unconsciousness is lapping at the shores of her mind, and Kate closes her eyes. She feels woozy, and now that the paramedics are here she's not sure she can hold on to her awareness. "Wanna sleep."

"Close your eyes," Castle murmurs, his fingers stroking through her hair over and over again. She's shivering, but his body is warm and she turns into him. The skin of her chest is prickling with the sticky pads, and she is essentially topless in front of two strangers and her partner, but nausea keeps rolling in her stomach and her breath wheezes in and out of her lungs and she finds she doesn't care.

"I got you," Castle says, his lips at her cheekbone. "I got you."

Kate manages to peel her eyes open and see her partner looming over her, horror making the edges of his face blur. A clumsy hand comes up, her fingers settling at his cheek, and Kate swallows around the acid that fills her mouth. "Castle. Love you. So much. I love you."

And then she can't stay with him anymore.


	14. Chapter 14

**Arcadia**

* * *

Kate blinks her eyes open, her mouth a sock and her body curiously empty. The monitor beeps steadily, an IV in the crook of her elbow so that she can't bend her arm, and she rolls her head to see her partner. He's in the chair beside her bed, his eyes closed, and he's got one of her hands trapped between both of his.

It's the only point of warmth, the rest of her body prickling with gooseflesh, and she wriggles her fingers to get his attention. Castle comes stumbling right up out of his chair, perching on the edge of the mattress next to her hip, and his body bows over hers. "Kate. You're awake."

"How long was I out?"

"Well, you were semi-conscious in the ambulance and when we first got here. You've been out cold for, uh. . .for about four and a half hours," he says, brushing the hair back out of her face. Kate works her tongue through her mouth, the insides of her throat stuck together, and she scrunches her face up. "Here. You can have sips of water."

Castle passes her the plastic cup and she lifts it to her mouth, grateful that at least her limbs seem to be in working order. The water slides easily down her throat and she gulps, spluttering when Castle takes the cup away from her again. "M'thirsty."

"I know," he says gently, setting the cup down on the table next to her bed. Just out of arm's reach, and she grumbles at him. "You can't have too much at once. You might throw up."

"I threw up," she says, the memory of hunching over the toilet bowl assaulting her all over again, and Kate wrinkles her nose. Her mind is foggy, and she has to grasp at wispy ghouls for a sense of what she's missing. "I. . .was poisoned?"

Raking a hand through his hair, Castle growls and turns half away from her. His jaw is a stone edge, his mouth stitched into a seam. "Why did you drink the tea, Kate? You said it tasted funny. Why did you do that?"

"I didn't want to fail," Kate says quietly, but at least it makes him turn back and look at her. She lifts a hand, and of course he takes it. He almost lost her, and his fingers curl around her own. "She was suspicious enough of me as it was. I thought if I refused to drink she might do something worse. Stab me or something."

"So you let yourself get poisoned?" Castle says flatly. His fingers twitch against hers, and now that she's really looking she sees the sallow stretch of his skin over his skull, the great swathes of shadow under his eyes.

Kate scrubs two fingers against her forehead and sighs, peering at him from the corner of her eye. "I didn't drink all of it. Only a few mouthfuls. I figured whatever was in there wouldn't kill me if I didn't drink it all."

"You didn't _know_ that," he yells, shifting back to his chair beside her bed again. "For God's sake, Kate. I almost had to watch you die again. I can't- don't you dare send me away."

"I'm not recovering from a bullet to the chest this time," she huffs, folding one arm over her abdomen to shield herself. A wash of guilt visibly cascades over her partner and he reaches for her, grappling for her hand and lifting it to his mouth. He kisses each of her knuckles before he lets her have her fingers back, and Kate feathers them against his jaw.

Shifting his chair closer to the bed, Castle props an elbow against the mattress, but that won't do. Bracing her weight against her palms, Kate shifts over until her hipbone is pressed against the railing and pats the space next to her. "Get in. I'm cold. Warm me up."

"I'll call for the nurse, get you another blanket," he says, getting to his feet, but Kate yanks on his arm and makes him stumble right into the bed. He grumbles, but he makes himself comfortable and slides his arm around her shoulders, arranging her to lean against his chest.

"Tell me what happened?" she yawns, her eyes sliding closed again, but the creature in her belly roars to life and rumbles away, making her laugh and press a palm there to quiet it. "Did they pump my stomach?"

Castle's mouth comes to her temple in a shadow of a kiss, the arm not around her shoulders sliding underneath the sheets to let his hand settle over hers. "No, they didn't. They gave you a few doses of activated charcoal to soak up the salicylate from the aspirin. And a laxative, to move the mixture through your gastrointestinal system faster."

"Jeez," Kate wrinkles her nose, understanding now why she feels so emptied out. "That must have been super attractive, Castle. Are you sure you still want to be here?"

"I wasn't here for that part," he chuckles, his happy mouth coming to her forehead in a kiss, like he's pleased with her. "One of the nurses sent me away. Said she knew from how I was swooning that I love you, and that you wouldn't want me seeing you like that. I was banished to the waiting room."

Kate yawns again, pressing the back of her hand over her mouth, and when it passes she lets her head thud against Castle's shoulder. "I'm glad. I know you saw me puking earlier today, but I'd like to maintain a little bit of sex appeal for a while longer."

"I still think you're beautiful," he says, the tip of his index finger tracing the very top curve of her ear. "And soft."

"Did you say aspirin?" she asks, to distract herself from the flare of tight need that comes to life inside her. It's not even like she really wants to act on it; she's exhausted, and she wants to stay in bed with her partner's warm body beside her for at least a week.

Kate snuggles down closer against his side and Castle's fingers drift to skim along her collarbone and down, playing with the ends of her hair. She feels good like this, sleepy and snug, but his hand squeezes her arm and she figures that it's unfair of her to fall asleep on him again.

How afraid he must have been, to watch the life spilling out of her for the second time in a year.

"Yeah. Bill had gone to the community centre to get some tools from storage there, to try and help us fix the toilet. He got back when they were loading you into the ambulance."

Kate frowns, tugging herself out from under the fallen limb of Castle's arm. She doesn't want to be slumped and subdued for this. "How did he know?"

"Maggie had texted him. She said you had a headache, and it wouldn't shift so you kept taking more and more aspirin and she was worried you might have overdosed. She asked him to check on you. He told the EMTs what they were dealing with. Might have saved your life."

A growl rumbles in her chest and she grinds her teeth, drawing her knees up in the bed until she's curled up small. Both of Castle's arms come around her and his face presses against her neck, his breathing slow and steady like he's trying to hold back the flood of emotion.

"She tried to kill me, Castle. I didn't take any aspirin. Not willingly."

"I guess she was trying to cover her tracks," her partner says, his fingers busy at the ends of her hair again. She's not sure he's stopped touching her since she woke up, and Kate nuzzles her nose against the thunder of his pulse in silent thanks. "But it only solidified her guilt."

"Is she in jail?" Kate asks, all of her earlier sympathy washing clean away. She and Maggie might both have suffered a loss, but where Beckett channelled her grief into helping others, it tipped Maggie right over the edge.

Castle kisses her cheek, his lips coming to flirt with the corner of her mouth as if he wants to kiss her properly but isn't sure if he's allowed. Her mouth still tastes musty, and Kate lays her head against his shoulder in answer, her hand splaying at his thigh.

"Uniformed officers searched her house, found the bottle of aspirin in the trash. It only had her prints on it, not yours. And they found the mortar and pestle she used to grind up the pills, traces of aspirin in it. She confessed to all of it, Kate. To killing those four women, and trying to kill you."

"Good," she says darkly, and Castle huffs a breath of bitter laughter. "Kind of worth almost dying if it means she goes away."

That makes her partner growl against the shell of her ear, his fingers clutching hard at her. "No. Nothing's worth that. Don't you dare do that to me again."

"I'm sorry," Kate whispers, letting Castle tuck the sheets in around her waist and cluck like a hen. "It was reckless, and selfish. Something I would have done two years ago, when you were a jackass and not. . ."

"Somebody you love?" he says softly, his whole body grinding to a halt beside her, and he leans back against the pillows. His lips curve in an easy smile, but something inside her chest feels tight, as if she's right back on the bathroom floor searching for breath again.

He's not quite able to meet her eyes, picking at a loose thread on the starch-crisp hospital sheet, and Kate reaches for him. Fingers curling at his ears, she draws him down until his forehead presses against hers. "I meant it. I love you, Castle. I'm sorry that it took me nearly dying to say it."

"It's okay," he soothes, tugging away enough that he can wrap his arms around her and bring her in against his chest. Castle tucks her underneath his chin, his fingers coming around to the back of the hospital gown. She figures he might slip them inside and skim over her bare back, but instead he holds the material closed to protect her naked skin from the chill.

"Not okay," she says against his chest. He's still in that t-shirt from this morning, his coat draped over the back of the chair, and the inside of his bicep is so smooth and lovely against her ear. "I should have said it back to you right away. I was a coward."

That makes him snort and he cranes his neck at an awkward angle to see her. "You're joking right? You willingly drank poison so that you could catch a killer. You couldn't be further from a coward."

"Meant with my heart," she huffs, wanting to knock her head against him, but she's so very sleepy. Hungry, but her stomach still quivers with nerves and she's not eager to eat right now even if they do let her. "Do you know when I can go home."

"You're still getting alkaline diuresis in your IV," he winces, fingers playing at the crook of her elbow just to the left of the dressing. "They have to keep giving it until your blood salicylate is low enough. But you're awake now. You're not confused anymore, or hallucinating. Those are good signs."

What happened after Kate got home is still mostly a blur, her brain in a swirling fog, and she hooks her fingers into the pocket of his jeans. "I was hallucinating?"

"You begged me not to let our baby die," he says, his face twisted in horror and his mouth an ugly slash. "And then you were semi-conscious for a bit when we first got to the hospital, and you felt that your stomach was flat and you were hysterical. They had to sedate you, because you were screaming about our son."

"God," she breathes, pressing a hand over her eyes. "Castle, I'm sorry."

He circles her wrist in his fingers and brings her hand slowly away, lacing their fingers together. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault."

"Still," she grumps, burying her face against the grey cotton of his t-shirt. "You call my dad?"

"No," he says, a little sheepish, and his fingers work their way into her hair and knead at her nape. It sends a tide of liquid heat rolling down her spine and Kate groans, stretching her legs out in the bed like a cat. "Everything was kind of chaotic. And they said that I'm your emergency contact?"

Kate reaches for his hand and draws his arm tighter around her shoulders, tangling their fingers together. "Yeah. I changed it after I was shot. Wasn't. . .brave enough to ask you for permission."

"It's not a problem," he says immediately, kissing her temple again. "I was just surprised."

"I woke up after I was shot, and even though I was with Josh, even though my dad was there, I wanted you. So I changed my contacts, because I didn't want to put my dad through that again. Because. . .I want you here, if something happens."

Castle gets his mouth at her ear, his fingers tapping a happy little dance at the curve of her waist, and she feels the bloom of his grin. "You've been my emergency contact for two years."

"Oh," she says, another yawn sinking its teeth into her, and when Castle guides her to lay down she doesn't struggle against him. He cradles her head until it meets the pillow, drawing the sheets up over her shoulders and brushing the hair out of her face. "Stay?"

"I'm staying right here," he promises, propping the weight of his body on one elbow. His hand settles at her cheek and his thumb sweeps back and forth next to her eye, his voice low and rumbling. "I won't leave you, Kate. Try and get some more sleep."

"You sleep too," she slurs, pushing on his arm until he gives in and lays flat, nose to nose with her. Kate does her best to drape the sheets over him and he helps, resting his arm at her waist and shifting across the mattress until their thighs kiss.

It's the only way for the sheet to cover them both, and Kate rests her head against Castle's chest and nuzzles her nose into the warmth of him. His voice makes a shiver rip through her, chin just bumping the crown of her head. "Nurses are gonna be mad when they find us like this."

"Don't care," she huffs, fisting a hand in his shirt. "You're staying."

* * *

He's gone when she wakes up in the morning. Actually gone, and her heart thunders frantically. Kate struggles upright and squints against the insect hum of the hospital's strip lighting, his chair at her bedside empty of him.

She's in a private room. Last night she'd been too tired - too grateful to be alive - to even notice her surroundings, her whole being caught up in keeping Castle close and making it through their conversation. But now it's morning, and she notices the space and the extra pillows she knows she wouldn't have if Castle weren't splashing his money around.

A nurse comes in to check her vitals and smiles to see her awake, apologises for the intrusion as she reads the machines.

"Do you know where my partner went?"

"Mr Castle?" the nurse asks, her cheeks pinking at the mention of him, and Kate rolls her eyes. He's probably got half of the hospital staff smitten with him by now. "He just went downstairs to grab a cup of coffee. He should be back any minute."

Clearing her throat, Kate cards a self-conscious hand through her hair and hopes she's going to be allowed to shower soon. "Did he stay all night?"

"Yep," the nurse laughs. "Sweet-talked his way into being allowed to share your bed. And since we're only keeping you for observation and your signs are back to normal now, we didn't have the heart to tell him no. You slept in his arms, honey."

The man in question appears as if he's been summoned, a to-go cup in each hand, and he lifts them in question. "Hey, Hannah. Is Kate allowed to have this? It's decaf."

"Only if you drink it slowly," the nurse says, sliding her pen back into the pocket of her uniform. "Don't go upsetting your stomach. It's gonna be a little nervous for a while."

"When can I go home?" Kate asks, feeling so small in the hospital bed. She hates the gown, hates how it drowns her, and she wishes her partner weren't all the way on the other side of the room.

The nurse smiles widely and pats Castle's shoulder, nudging him to join Kate as she hovers in the doorway. "After lunch, if you manage to keep some food down. And you need to rest for a few days, hon. Your body's been through a lot."

"I'll make sure of it," Castle promises, sinking to sit in his chair at her bedside and hanging one of the coffee cups over to her. The nurse leaves, and he reaches for Kate's hand and presses a kiss to her palm, folds her fingers closed over it. "Hey there. How are you feeling?"

"Like I could sleep for another three days," she grumps, sifting a hand through her hair again. She can feel the patina of slime moving over her skin and she closes her eyes, lets her head drop back against the pillow. "And gross. I want to shower. And brush my teeth."

Castle huffs a laugh at that, but he's got a peppering of stubble across his jaw and his shirt is all creased. "I know the feeling. I think Hannah's just waiting on approval from the doctor to get your IV out, and then you can take a long hot shower. Adjoined bathroom."

"Thank you. For the room," Kate says, reaching for him and squeezing his fingers. "And for staying."

"Of course," he says easily, a pleased little smile making his face scrunch up for a second. "You don't have to drink that, by the way. If your stomach still feels weird."

Kate takes a moment to evaluate it, her eyes closed, and she listens to the needful grumble of her insides. "I'll see how it goes. What's, uh. . .what's the situation in the outside world?"

"Snow's melting," he says morosely, drumming two fingers against the black plastic lid of his coffee cup. He catches her narrowed eyes and freezes, one hand extending in slow motion to set the cup down on the table. "The boys and Lanie stayed at the house last night, to be nearby in case you got worse. And to help the local PD coordinate. They're going to pack everything up for us and bring it back to the city."

"They are?" she mumbles, wishing she had the energy to lift an eyebrow at him. Kate sips at her coffee, careful not to overwhelm her system, and she feels the liquid heat slide all the way down into the pit of her stomach. "We're not doing that ourselves?"

Castle hesitates, his eyes scanning her face, and then he seems to decide that he needs to be touching her. He gets up from his chair and climbs into bed, crowding her so that she has to shift over and make room. She drapes herself over his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart, and a smile blooms at her lips of its own accord.

"I didn't think you'd want to go back there and face everyone. Not now that the bump is ruined and our secret is out."

"They know I'm a cop now?" she says, but there's no stirring of regret inside her. The charade was never supposed to be forever, and although she'll miss sleeping in and the long luxurious hours of uninterrupted time with her partner, she aches to get back to her city.

Castle's arm drapes around her shoulders and his fingers skate up and down her arm, feather light. "They know. Everybody came out to watch Maggie when the local PD took her in. And I think Alice told everyone that we'd been undercover. Espo said it was chaos by the time he and Ryan got there."

"We got her, Castle," Kate grins, and her partner takes her coffee and sets it down next to his so that he can tangle their fingers together. "We did it."

"Well, you did it," he says, his lips at her temple in a soft kiss.

It's her job, but Kate knows that letting herself got poisoned was perhaps a little much. "I did. And now it's over. I can't wait to go home."

"Gates called me," Castle says quietly, and she buries her face against his chest. "The boys told her what happened. She says with all the overtime you've accrued being undercover, she doesn't want to see you back at the precinct until after the holidays."

"But the Christmas shift," Kate blurts, struggling upright in the bed so she can stare at her partner. She was hoping that being undercover would earn her some more vacation time, since she used it all up after her shooting, but this? "Christmas is a week today, Castle. What am I going to do with myself."

Her partner winces, peeking at her from one narrowed eye. "January second, she said she wants you back. That's fifteen days. And I was hoping. . .that you would spend at least some of them with me."

"Oh," she says slowly, reaching up to skim her thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. "Well. You told the nurse that you'd make sure I rest. So I guess I'm going home with you."

"Only if you want to," he says, kissing the pad of her thumb before he reaches for her hand and traps it against his chest instead. "I'm not looking to push you into cohabitation."

The door swings open before Kate can format a response, try to explain that she doesn't want to move in just yet without hurting his feelings. His expectations are so low; all he wants from her is for her to spend time with him, and it's not as if she doesn't want it too.

"Hello," Bill says, poking his head around the open door. Castle climbs out of bed as if it's his mother peering in and they're in grade school, falling all over himself to get away from her. He flops heavily into the chair beside her bed, gesturing for Bill to come inside the room. "How are you feeling, Detective?"

"Tired."

"Not to be rude," Castle cuts in, reaching for Kate's hand. There's only one chair in the room, so Bill has to hover awkwardly just inside the room, and Kate takes some sick satisfaction from watching him squirm. "But what are you doing here? I figured you'd be dealing with lawyers or something. You know, since your wife is fighting four murder charges and one count of attempted murder."

"Castle," Kate hisses, shooting a glare at her partner, but he doesn't take his eyes off of Bill. She's never seen him like this, his whole body thrumming with rage, and Kate squeezes his hand to try and calm him.

Bill lifts a hand in supplication, shifting his weight under Castle's scrutiny. "No, you're right. What Maggie has done is. . .inexcusable. I'm here to apologise, and to make sure that Kate is alright."

"Oh my god," Castle says, standing up from his chair and taking a few slow steps towards Bill. "You knew. You knew this whole time, didn't you. Are you in it with her?"

" _No_ ," Bill says fiercely, showing Castle both palms now. "I wasn't a part of it. I swear, I was horrified when I found out."

A noise of disbelief rumbles in Castle's throat and Kate shifts in the bed, hating that the two of them are all the way over by the door and she can't intervene. Her partner is stretched up to his full height, so broad that Kate's mouth goes a little dry.

"And you didn't try to stop her? Didn't turn her in?"

Bill shakes his head, his whole body beginning to dissolve, and Kate wonders if he will actually pool at Castle's feet. "I tried to stop her. But she- since David died, I've been unable to get through to her."

"You could have called the cops. You'll go to jail too. You've committed an offence."

"I know," Bill says, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I know that. But I couldn't have just handed her over to the police."

That makes Castle growl, his hands in fists. "Why not?"

"She's my wife," Bill says quietly, his eyes downcast. He seems to have aged twenty years in a day, and even with the horror of Maggie's crimes Kate can't imagine the grief of watching somebody you love go to jail.

"Yes," Castle growls, his shoulders square, and somehow with the scatter of regrowth across his jaw, his hair fluffy and hanging over his forehead, he still manages to be formidable. "And you left _my_ wife alone with her. Kate could have died because of you."

Bill's forehead creases up in confusion and he glances between them, Kate's fingers flexing uselessly against the sheets. "I thought you two aren't actually married. I thought that was an undercover thing."

There's no pause, not even a beat, and Castle's fist swings up and collides with Bill's face. A crack rings out and Kate gasps, trapped in the bed with the IV still sharp at the crook of her arm. Bill goes to the ground, catching himself on one hand as the other flies up to press against his nose.

"The marriage was fake," Castle says darkly, looming over Bill. "But how much I love her wasn't. Get out of here, right now."

Bill scrambles to his feet and leaves without a backwards glance, and Kate stares mutely at the rise and fall of Castle's shoulders. His breath comes through his nose, ragged and broken, and his knuckles are already red and raw.

"Castle," she murmurs, and his jaw ticks. "Can you come here. Please."

He finally turns to face her, making his way back to her bedside and falling heavily into the chair. It makes her grit her teeth and she holds out a hand, wishing she weren't tethered to the damn IV. "Kate, I'm-"

"Get in with me," she says, patting the mattress, and Castle climbs back into the bed. Reaching for his hand, Kate lifts it to her mouth and kisses his knuckles. "You need to stop punching people for me, Rick. You're gonna really hurt yourself."

"Worth it," he grumbles, letting her stretch his fingers and curl them in close against his palm again to make sure nothing is really broken. It must hurt; his nostrils flare, but he doesn't cry out. "I can't believe he knew his wife was a killer and he did nothing."

Kate lays her head against her partner's shoulder and closes her eyes, wrapping both arms around his bicep so that it presses against her chest. Deep pressure, and it makes her breathing come a little easier. "If it was me, would you have called the cops? Would you have sent me to jail?"

"No, but-"

"It's the same," she says firmly. "I don't blame Bill for not turning Maggie in. If you killed someone, I wouldn't call the cops. I'd help you hide the body."

That makes him huff a laugh and he rolls his eyes, twisting his head to see her. "You _are_ a cop. I find that very hard to believe."

"I mean it," Kate knocks her head against his shoulder. "Yes, I believe in justice, and I have a duty to uphold the law, but you're my partner. We're in it together. I already told you that I'd break you out of jail."

"I love you, too," he grins, turning towards her. At the last second he pauses, tugging his head away, and a frown draws his eyebrows together. "I'm gonna go find a nurse. See about getting your IV out."

That makes her lift an eyebrow at him, settling back against the pillows as he climbs out of the hospital bed. "Right now? Why?"

"So you can brush your teeth. And shower."

"Why is it suddenly so urgent?"

"Because I really, really need to kiss you," he says, scraping a hand through the fluff of his hair. It's sticking up in all directions, spiking at the back of his head even while the front flops down over his forehead. "And I know you don't want to make out until you're feeling more human. So. IV out."

He disappears for barely a minute, returning with one of the nurses right behind him. The IV comes out of her arm without any fuss and the moment the nurse leaves again Kate climbs out of bed. Sliding her arms around Castle's shoulders, she presses her body in close to his and closes her eyes, her nose against the shell of his ear.

"You're okay," he says, a hand drifting up and down the length of her spine. Her body sags against his, starved as it is, and she fists both hands in his t-shirt to keep herself upright. "I've got you."

"I'm hungry," she admits, pulling out of their embrace to look at him. "While I'm showering would you see about me being allowed to eat something?"

He smiles at that, drawing her in with a hand at the curve of her skull so he can kiss her forehead. "Sure. There's a travel bag in the bathroom with your toiletries. I think I got everything you'll need. Take your time, Kate."

"I will," she says, lifting up on tiptoe in her bare feet to kiss his cheek. A thought hits her and she drops back to her normal height, frowning at him. "What about clothes?"

"I got those too. Got a cab to the house and picked up my car and our stuff. I'll go get the suitcase while you're showering. If you think you'll find something to fit you?"

Kate pinches the bridge of her nose and growls. It seems to be one thing on top of another now, and she just wants to shower and get dressed in her own clothes and go home. "I don't know."

"I can run out and buy you something if nothing works," he says, his voice firm, and she doesn't bother to argue with him. Instead she offers up a small smile, before she turns away and heads for the bathroom.


	15. Chapter 15

**Arcadia**

* * *

"You're touching your stomach again," Castle says, a hint of teasing in his voice, and Kate splays her fingers wide over the flat stretch of her abdomen. Her partner comes around the back of the couch and sinks to sit beside her, an apron knotted at his waist. He's wearing a red t-shirt with a dorky image of cartoon Rudolph on the front, his skin warm and his cheeks flushed with the heat of the stove.

A shiver rattles through her and Castle wraps an arm around her shoulders, tucking the thick leopard throw in tighter at her waist. She pilfered a huge, chunky sweater of his from the closet this morning, stole a pair of thick woollen socks. Her toes curl inside them, the joints popping, and she drums her heels agains the floor.

Castle lit the gas fire for her, even though he's cooking and the whole loft is sweltering anyway, the heat turned up high. It doesn't seem to be making much of a difference; she's still cold, has been since she woke up in the hospital, and the doctors have assured her that it's normal. That her body is still trying to regulate itself, and as long as she makes sure to keep eating plenty and get enough rest, it'll pass in a few days.

"I kind of miss the bump," she admits, resting her heavy head at Castle's shoulder once he's done wriggling to get comfortable beside her. "I had gotten used to it. Gotten attached."

"Me too," he says, truth for truth, and a little grin tugs at one corner of his mouth. "I'd really started to love seeing you in it. You suit being pregnant. Even fake, you had a glow."

That makes her roll her eyes and she knocks her temple against the ball of his shoulder, sneaking a hand out from underneath the blanket to pat his thigh. "Someday. Way, way in the future."

"Sure," he says, but he's laughing at her. An eyebrow arches up towards his hairline and his lips thin out into a smirk. "I heard how you talked about it. The visions you had about our son. I bet you twenty bucks you'll be pregnant by next Christmas."

"Gotta marry me first," she hums, drawing her legs up onto the couch and tucking the blanket underneath her feet. She's been indulging in laziness this week, spending long days on Castle's couch with him. They've made sure to get out into the city every day, walking hand in hand just a few blocks at a time. He's been able to show her the festive side to New York that she usually tries to ignore, and every day her strength has grown a little bit more.

Mostly, though, they've been watching movies together or just dozing, her head resting on top of a pillow in his lap and his fingers sifting through her hair. His daughter had school until Wednesday, and then for the latter half of the week Alexis had flitted in and out of the loft, busy enjoying the festive season with her friends.

A few days ago though, Castle went grocery shopping for their Christmas Eve dinner, and Alexis had come to sit beside Kate on the couch, a blanket of her own around her shoulders that made her look like a little girl. She had asked for Beckett's help looking at colleges, since her father kept hinting that he wanted her to stay in the city. The two of them have clashed over it, and Alexis had wanted an objective opinion.

She and Kate had poured over all of the different brochures, making a list of pros and cons for each school, and the more they talked the more Kate was reassured that the girl doesn't hate her. Alexis had even asked Beckett about what college was like, for her advice, and right before she scurried off to compare notes with her best friend, she had even wrapped her arms around Kate in a hug.

It was a little awkward, Kate so surprised by it that she had no idea where to put her hands, but the girl had scampered up the stairs in a flash of red hair, calling out her thanks.

It had been wonderful to feel useful, even ensconced on the couch as she was. And, too, it made her feel a little bit less like she was invading the girl's home. The way Castle had framed it - _Kate is staying because she almost died and I want to take care of her_ \- didn't give Alexis much room to grumble about it, and the thought of the girl secretly hating her makes Kate's stomach turn.

"Don't," her partner growls against her ear, stealing the edge of the blanket from her so that he can tuck his own legs underneath it. "I would ask you right now. Get you a ring as your present, if I thought you'd say yes."

They're not ready, she knows that, but all the same a delicious thrill comes to life in her belly. If he were to ask her, she's not entirely sure that she'd say no. Something about pretending, for just a week, has her convinced that they're going to make it.

That they're ready to get married and have their son, as absurd an idea as that is.

"You're right," she says, to convince both her partner and herself. "We're not there yet."

"Do you wanna nap before dinner?" he asks, his lips skimming the crown of her head as he talks. She's been so exhausted since they got back to the city that they've only managed long, horizontal make out sessions, and Kate is ashamed to admit that a couple of times she's fallen asleep right in the middle of it.

He's been so good, patient and kind and willing to snuggle with her whenever she asks, even though he's trying to spend time with his daughter and get his last minute Christmas shopping done. Not once has he pushed her, but she knows he must be aching around the liquid need in his guts, if only because she is too.

"No. I'm doing okay today," she smiles, wriggling away from him to lean against the arm of the couch instead. Kate drapes her legs over Castle's lap and he drums his fingertips against her kneecaps. He's been giddy all day, singing loudly as he prepared their dinner and cajoling her to join in.

Martha and Alexis are both out, but they've promised to be home in time for Christmas Eve dinner and her partner is practically humming with pleasure at having all three of them close by.

"I feel bad about your dad," Castle says, working his fingers into the hinge of her knee. Kate had called her father from the car on the drive back to the city, accepted his yelling in silence. When he had finished, muttering that he was glad she was alright, Kate had confessed to him that she and Castle are together now, and invited him to spend Christmas with her and Rick and his family.

"Well, he'd already arranged to spend the holidays at the cabin. And he said that it's too much for him," Kate says gently, nudging her toes underneath Castle's thigh to keep them warm. "It might be a little too much for me."

Sifting his fingers through his hair, Castle turns his face away and tension ticks at the edge of his jaw. "I know you'd rather be at the precinct."

" _No_ ," Kate says, struggling upright to wrap both her arms around her partner's neck. She tugs on his ear to get him to turn his head, her mouth already open and wanting when he comes back to face her, and her tongue slicks easily past the seam of his lips and into the warmth of him. "No. I don't want to be at the precinct. This is perfect, Castle. This part, right here with you, is perfect. Because you don't hate me for spending all my time on the couch."

"My mother and Alexis don't hate you," he says immediately, punctuating his sentence with a firm kiss against her mouth. "They understand. You're recovering."

Pressing a hand to her eyes, Kate huffs a breath and sets the little baby hairs around her temples fluttering. "Yeah. In their house. Monopolising you. Taking up the couch. Dragging down the mood."

"Hey," he grumps at her, his lips feathering little kisses against the skin of her neck and making her squirm. "They love you, because I love you. And they're glad you're here, Kate. I want you to be part of my family."

"I know you do," she soothes, sliding her fingers inside his t-shirt. It makes him yelp, because her circulation hasn't been so great since she was poisoned and her fingers are freezing cold now. Castle's hand comes to cover hers, over the shirt to trap the fabric between them and stop her fingers from wiggling and spreading their chill over the soft underbelly of him. "I think I want that too, Castle. This is the first Christmas since my mom died that I haven't been counting down the minutes until it's over."

That has an awed smile spreading at the corner of his mouth and he comes in to kiss her again, his free hand curving around the back of her neck. "I'm proud of you, Beckett. I know it's not easy for you to be here."

"Actually, it is," Kate shrugs, a smile curving at her mouth that shows all of her teeth. "I did some thinking, in the car on the way back to the city. Keeping watch was important to me, but I know that my mom always wanted for me to be happy. So being here with you feels like honouring her in a different way."

"I wish I could have met her," he says, his eyes scanning her face as if to make sure that he hasn't taken a step out of line.

It's good though, bubbles of warmth slowly bursting in her chest at the thought of Rick and her mother, how the two of them would play off of one another. "She'd love you, Castle. I wish you could have met her, too. Although you'd both tease me endlessly."

"Yeah?" Castle grins, little lines of mirth fissuring their way out from the corners of his eyes. "Your mom teased you a lot?"

"Uh-huh," she laughs, pressing her palms against her cheeks as memories lap against the shores of her mind. It makes her squirm a little and she shifts on the couch, tucking herself in behind Castle's body and wrapping both arms around his bicep, the weight of his muscle comforting against her sternum. "She was always making fun of me for thinking so highly of myself. Always trying to cajole me into having some fun and putting down the Russian lit."

Kate presses a hand over her eyes, suddenly unable to breathe around the thickness of loss in her throat. How her mother would laugh to see her now, the way that Castle no longer has to try and get her to have fun. She _wants_ to, wants to play laser tag and see dorky movies and bounce on their bed, and Johanna would think it so hilarious.

She drops her hand at the touch of her partner's fingers to the inside of her wrist, and Castle tucks the wispy strands of hair back behind her ear when her eye twitches, the backs of his fingers drifting over her cheekbone. "We don't have to talk about it if it hurts to remember."

"No," Kate shakes her head, kissing his palm, and Castle draws his hand back from her and pats it all over his own face, as if to spread her kisses over his cheeks. It makes her laugh, and Kate covers her mouth with a hand and turns her face away, elbow propped on the back of the couch and her joy so vibrant that she can't look at him. "It doesn't hurt. It's nice, actually. Dad doesn't like to talk about her that much, so I never really get to share those memories."

"Well, any time you want to, I want to hear them," he says, drawing his legs up onto the couch to curl himself around her. It presses her back into the corner of the couch and she giggles, pushing on his cheek like a child to earn herself some room.

It's so good to have energy making its tentative way through her system again and Kate wraps her arms around her partner's neck, stretching her legs out to let him nudge his way between her thighs. The weight of his body makes her gasp, but then he's kissing the breathlessness right off her open mouth and his wide hand splays at the curve of her waist.

"Mm," he groans against her throat, the very tip of his tongue flicking out to touch the thump of her pulse. "Shouldn't do this here. Don't know when Alexis will be home."

"Right," she gasps, tugging on his hair, and he lifts himself off her and moves further down the couch, a foot of space between their bodies. "I miss having that whole enormous house to ourselves."

Castle groans and scrubs his hands over his face, dropping his head against the back of the couch. "God, I hope my mother and Alexis are out for New Years. I want to welcome it with a bang."

That makes her snort and she moves down the couch just to knock her forehead against his jaw, careful not to drape herself over him too much. When she tugs back he's leering at her, but it dissolves into laughter and he kisses the corner of her mouth, his nose nudging hard into her cheekbone.

"Are you not throwing a party this year?" she hums, remembering the invite last year. She had had to decline, already promised to see in the New Year with her boyfriend, but then Josh had been called to the hospital to assist with an emergency surgery.

Kate had watched the ball drop on TV, eating Chinese takeout and falling asleep on her couch barely ten minutes in to the New Year. Several times she had flicked her thumb against her cell phone's home button, wanting to call her partner and wish him a happy 2011, but then she had imagined him ignoring her call because the party was loud and fun and everything she isn't.

"No," Castle shrugs, clasping his hands and trapping them between his knees. "Not this year. Alexis has a party and my mother is doing. . .something. I was planning on spending it at the precinct. With you."

"I don't take the New Year shift," she laughs, folding her legs underneath herself and putting some space between them again. "I'm never allowed, because I always work Christmas. So you would have what? Shown up at my apartment?"

He shrugs, reaching across the space between them to skim his fingers over her collar bone. His sweater is huge on her, hanging down over one shoulder, and it lets her clavicle peek out from the neckline. "I guess. I just wanted to be with you. Wherever."

"Would you have kissed me?" she murmurs, tilting her head, and her partner growls.

Crawling back along the couch to her, Castle chases her mouth and his lips smudge against hers. His kiss is a little clumsy, happiness making him topple onto her, and Kate has to break away from his mouth to laugh, her face buried in the curve of his neck.

"If you'd let me," he says, his arms coming tight around her waist, and he rolls onto his back and draws her on top of him until she's sprawled over his chest, her head tucked neatly underneath his chin. "I would have. Always want to kiss you."

The timer on his phone rings out from his pocket and he groans, depositing her onto the couch cushions so he can pull it free. "I have to start on the vegetables."

"I thought you like cooking Christmas dinner?" she hums, arching her back, and Castle sighs into the shell of her ear. His teeth graze against the column of her neck and she pushes on his thigh, not wanting their dinner to be ruined because they were too busy making out.

"I do. But I like you more."

Kate sighs at him, struggling out from under his arm at her waist to get off the couch. She waits for the lightheadedness, waits for her stomach to protest at being upright, but it never comes. Relief makes her grin and she holds out her hands to Castle, taking both of his and tugging him to his feet with her.

"How about a compromise? I'll help you cook."

His eyes rake over her, but by now he knows better than to ask if she's sure, if she's up to it. Kate tangles their fingers for the walk over to the kitchen, glancing at her partner from the corner of her eye as he matches her pace, careful not to drag her along.

"You wanna chop some carrots?" he asks, already reaching inside the refrigerator to collect the vegetables for dinner, and Kate takes the bag from him and hunts for a knife and a board to cut them on. She still remembers where everything is in his kitchen, had learned the layout when she stayed here after her apartment exploded, and she loves the little happy grin he gives her when she doesn't have to ask.

They work in easy harmony, Castle distracting himself every so often to come in close and kiss her, and by the time Alexis and Martha make it home everything is cooking and they're sitting at the kitchen island together, arguing about which movie to watch before bed tonight.

"Oh, Kate, darling, how wonderful to see you up and about," Martha enthuses, dropping her purse over the back of the couch to come and kiss Kate's cheek. There's no malice in it, no insinuation that Kate has been allowing herself to become sloth-like. Only Martha's easy happiness to see her getting better.

"Hey pumpkin," Castle says when his daughter comes to sit on the stool at his other side. "Did you have a good time with your friends?"

Alexis smiles, tugging the beanie hat off her head and dumping it on the counter top. She sweeps the fire-spill of her hair over one shoulder and begins winding it into a braid, her pale cheeks wind raw as she chats to her father about her day.

Picking at a nonexistent thread at the knee of her jeans, Kate tries to pretend as if she's not listening in to their conversation, but her smile curves wide and she has to duck her head to hide it. A hand comes to her shoulder and she jolts, whipping around to see her partner's mother giving her a knowing look.

"Kate dear, can I talk to you?"

"Of course," she says, sliding down from her stool. Castle is engrossed in his conversation with his daughter, but the shift of Kate's body next to him draws him out of it just enough for him to squeeze her hand.

Martha ushers her towards Castle's office and she goes, sinking down into one of the armchairs and curling her legs up. Her partner's mother sinks gracefully into the other chair, one leg crossed over the other, and her interlinked fingers resting at her knee.

"Darling, it's so good to see you looking better," Martha starts, her smile wide and honest. "I just wanted to apologise."

"For what?" Kate asks, sagging back against the armchair. She's the one who ought to be apologising, taking over Martha's home as she has been, and she brings a knee up and wraps both arms around it.

Martha waves a hand in the air, the stack of bracelets at her wrist jingling, and she twists her face in guilt. "Well dear, Richard didn't tell us that you would be joining us for Christmas. And of course you know, I'm delighted to see that the two of you are together now, but my son never so much as hinted that it was going to happen."

"I'm not sure that we knew either," Kate says quietly, staring at her own toes where they curl over the edge of the seat. Cheek squished against her knee, she bites at her bottom lip as if that can stop the determined bloom of her grin. "It was just that being undercover like that, spending all that time together, made it. . .impossible to ignore our feelings."

"Yes, darling," Martha says. "But my point is that I didn't have time to get you a gift."

Her jaw drops, and Kate sits up straight in her chair and reaches for Martha's hand, enfolding it in both of hers. "Martha, you don't need to get me a gift."

"I would have if I'd known," Martha says firmly, squeezing Kate's hand before she draws hers back. "We're big on gifts in this family. Alexis and I had to talk Richard out of buying you more than one present, so that he didn't overwhelm you. Before we knew you guys were together, of course."

"I don't have anything for you either," Kate admits, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't even have anything for Rick. I don't really. . .do Christmas."

That makes Martha's jaw drop, an actual gasp escaping her. "You don't do _Christmas_? You mean you don't receive gifts, or do Christmas dinner, or go carolling? Ever?"

"No," Kate shakes her head, her eyes already burning with the flood of grief. It's different with Castle, and she has never minded sharing stories about her mother with him, but with anybody else she finds it difficult to cling to the sweetness, a bitter coating to her tongue. "Since my mom died, it's been too painful."

"Oh, honey, I didn't mean to upset you."

Kate shakes her head, her eyes squeezed tightly closed for just a moment, and then she manages a smile for her partner's mother. "It's alright. And actually, Castle has made me see that it's okay to enjoy Christmas even without her. That it's a good way to honour her."

"I'm so glad," Martha says, standing up from her chair and holding out a hand to Kate. She takes it, allowing Martha to help her to her feet and hook an arm through hers, the two of them squeezing through the doorframe and back into the living room.

Castle frowns when he catches sight of them; her face must still be twisted in grief. He comes around the counter and Alexis glances up from setting the table, a wrinkle of confusion travelling across the girl's face.

"Mother," Castle says firmly, and Martha untangles herself from Kate and heads to help her granddaughter. Her partner's hands come to her face and his forehead meets hers, his breath washing over her cheek. "Are you okay? What did she say to you?"

"She apologised for not getting me a gift," Kate says, sliding her arms low around his waist. He lets go just a little, hands coming to her shoulders instead, and his fingers wriggle at her spine. "And then she asked why I don't usually celebrate Christmas."

Castle draws her in against his chest, his lips against the crown of her head, and he rocks her. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she laughs, breaking away from him. Kate straightens his shirt where the weight of her body has made it all creased up, and she leaves her palms resting against his chest. "Really. Your mom isn't the first person to ask me about _my_ mom. I don't mind."

"If you're sure," he says, one hand coming up to the back of her neck. He leans in for a kiss, his tongue working at the seam of her lips, but she's mindful of his mother and daughter watching them from the dining table and she keeps their kiss soft and tender.

When they break apart he keeps close, his nose nudging against hers, and she can only see the very edges of his smile. "This is my best Christmas ever."

"Me too," she whispers, stealing another kiss from his mouth before she takes a step away. Kate has to shake herself a little bit to clear the fog of amniotic togetherness, but then she manages a smile and turns to face his mother and daughter. "Can I do anything to help?"

"I think we're about done, darling," Martha says, surveying the table and its four place settings. Castle's mother comes around the kitchen island and peers through the door of the oven, humming her excitement at the sight of the ham. "It looks fantastic, kiddo."

"Thank you Mother," Castle chuckles, winding an arm around Kate's waist to draw her in close. He kisses her temple, and Kate catches the wrinkle of Alexis' nose and untangles herself from her partner, heading for his daughter instead.

Hooking her arm through Alexis', Kate dips her head towards the girl. "Is it okay with you that I'm here? I don't want to intrude on your Christmas with your family. I remember how important all of those 'lasts' were before I left for college."

"Oh no, Detective Beckett, I'm glad you're here," Alexis says, and relief swamps Kate when she sees that there's no false edge to the girl's smile. "It's so good to see my dad happy. And to see that you're not stringing him along anymore."

She winces at that, gritting her teeth, and she's so glad to see that her partner is deep in conversation with his mother and, hopefully, not overhearing as Kate and Alexis talk.

"I didn't mean to string him along, Alexis. I know it looked that way to you, I know that you saw him hurting all summer. But I needed to heal, so that I could be strong enough to do this with him."

"But you love him, right?" Alexis says, untangling her arm from Kate's so that she can face her instead. Kate can only meet the girl's eyes for a second, so clear and blue like her father's.

She glances over at her partner, leaning against the refrigerator and listening intently to one of his mother's stories, and she remembers all over again their night at the Christmas party. His body pressed close against hers as they danced, the way his voice got low and gruff and rumbly when he talked about their son. The way he kissed her, as if he was so awed and grateful to have her there with him.

How even the awkwardness of the fake bump didn't make things uncomfortable between them, that their first night was fun and easy and god, so amazing.

"Oh," Castle's daughter breathes, her long legs and wide eyes making her look like a startled deer when Kate finally turns back to face her. "Wow. You really _do_ love him."

"I do," Kate says firmly, offering Alexis a single nod. "Alexis, I'm not sure what your father told you about our time undercover, but I had to pretend to be married to him and expecting our baby. And it made me realise how much I want that."

Alexis' jaw drops and she clutches at the counter behind herself, staring at Kate. Her throat works a couple of times and then she squeaks out a little noise. "You want to marry my dad? And have kids? Does he _know_?"

"He knows," Kate says, and then Castle's fingers come to her waist and he draws her back against the wall of his chest.

"I know, Alexis," he says, his hand splaying at Kate's stomach. "Beckett and I have talked a lot about things, and this between us. . .it's real. It's for the long haul. I got to see what my life could be like in a few years time, and I want that. We both do. So that's what we're working towards."

For a moment, Alexis is totally silent, and even Martha is frozen in place just waiting to see how the girl will react. And then a bubbling noise of joy escapes her and she wraps her arms around Kate and Castle both, her head between theirs and propped on her father's shoulder.

"I'm so happy for you Dad. I'm so glad you guys are really doing this."

"Thank you pumpkin," Castle says, his free hand between his daughter's shoulder blades, and then Martha's arms come around them as well and the four of them dissolve into laughter, rocking together in the middle of the kitchen.

The hug breaks apart and Castle clears his throat, thumps himself in the chest. "I can't believe you almost made me cry, daughter. It's _Christmas_."

"Sorry Dad," she laughs, sweeping her braid back over her shoulder again. Alexis looks a little watery herself, and Kate has to hide her face against the back of her partner's shoulder so nobody will see that her whole face trembles with relief.

"Alexis honey," Martha says, curling a hand around the girl's shoulder. "Could you help me with the vegetables, please?"

The two of them move towards the stove and Kate hooks two fingers in the pocket of her partner's jeans and tugs, bringing him with her over to the couch. Propping herself against the back of it, she snakes an arm around his waist until he's pressed up close against her.

"Castle," she hums, kissing the jut of his chin. "Thank you. I was so worried that going undercover was going to be too hard. That the tension between us would be too much to deal with. But you made it easy."

"It was easy," he says, a hand coming up to her cheek, and his thumb sweeps under her eye. "Kate, being married to you, even fake? It was the happiest I've ever been."

Winding an arm around his neck, Kate draws him down to her and kisses him, letting his tongue slick inside. His body shields them from Alexis and Martha, and Kate sifts her fingers through the hairs at his nape. One palm splays at her stomach, and he breaks away from her mouth because he's grinning so wide that their teeth knock together.

"Next Christmas, Kate. Next Christmas you'll be expecting our son for real."

* * *

 **fin.**

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you Allie for betaing, listening to me complain all day long, being a sounding board for my 2am WHAT IF MAGGIE POISONS HER? nonsense, and making the most beautiful cover art. Thank you Carlee, for being so patient with me, and so sweet and supportive. Thank you, my squad, you are the best and you kept me mostly sane.

Thank you, everybody who has reviewed, tweeted, blogged, or otherwise shown me so much love and support. I am so incredibly grateful to every one of you.


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